


Yearning for a Pride

by hawkeyescoffee



Series: Horned Wolves, Sunset Dragons and Red Lions [3]
Category: A Song of Ice and Fire - George R. R. Martin, Game of Thrones (TV)
Genre: Adultery, Alternate Universe - Canon Divergence, Arranged Marriage, Brynden is a good uncle, Casterly Rock, F/M, Forced Abortion, It Gets Worse Before It Gets Better, Jaime Lannister Has Issues, Mildly Dubious Consent, Minor Cersei Lannister/Jaime Lannister, Protective Jaime Lannister, Riverrun, Robert's Rebellion, Sexual Content, Slow Build, Slow Romance, Storm's End (ASoIaF), The Red Keep (ASoIaF), Underage Sex, Unrequited Love, aegon is the boy king, baby lannister in the future, dubious consent in chapter 9, grrm what were u thinking?, lonley lysa, minor petyr Baelish / lysa Tully, only in chapter 9 but still tagging it for you, robert is lord of Storm's End, sympatheic Lysa, we start at the begining baby
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2020-07-06
Updated: 2021-03-02
Packaged: 2021-03-05 01:34:56
Rating: Mature
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 24
Words: 41,667
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/25106305
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/hawkeyescoffee/pseuds/hawkeyescoffee
Summary: Lysa loved Petyr more than herself, but he loved Cat. Cat and Power.Jaime loved Cersei like a part of him, but Cersei wanted Rhaegar. Rhaegar and a crown and influence.But Cat married Eddard and Petyr did not gain the influence he hoped he get.And Cersei? The Prince married another, who is ruling queen while she is stuck in a loveless marriage.In the End, Lysa and Jaime are made to marry.And while Lysa yearns for a child to replace the bastard she never had, Jaime is more interested in fathering Bastards himself then spent time with his wife.In the End, no one was truly happy, right?
Relationships: Lysa Tully Arryn/Jaime Lannister
Series: Horned Wolves, Sunset Dragons and Red Lions [3]
Series URL: https://archiveofourown.org/series/1803970
Comments: 57
Kudos: 86





	1. Lysa I

**Author's Note:**

> Hello friends,
> 
> this is the Jaime/Lysa fic no one asked for but here we are.  
> I hope you enjoy.
> 
> Updating on Mondays

Lysa Tully was the second daughter of a great house.

But when she was a child, she did not know nor cared to understand what that meant. She only cared about running about the Keep with her older sister Cat.

She would sometimes stop by the nursery, climb the crib up as good as possible and look at her baby brother, who had not even had his first name day yet. The boy had copper hair a lot lighter than Lysa’s and Cat’s and he was not doing much except scream, sleep, and slobber on everything.

Cat had said that Lysa had been just as little when she was born but she did not believe her. Surely, she had been bigger and less annoying.

She glanced at the sleeping Edmure a bit longer.

Her mother had passed away bringing him into this world. That was at least what her Uncle Brynden had told them, that day. Cat and Lysa had hugged the man as tight as their little arms were able to. Lysa did not yet completely understand what ‘passed away’ exactly meant or how Mamas brought children into the world.

But she had understood quite fast that her Mama would not come back for her. It made her said. Her Mama had been the best. Always hugging her tight and kissing her hair and telling her that she was her pretty little girl just as Cat was too.

Lysa knew that her Mama loved her and loved Cat. Would she have loved little, useless Edmure too?

A maid scolded her for disturbing her brother and Lysa made quick work of running away instead of answering. She did not like talking to people.

She hurried to find Cat. Maybe she wanted to play with her puppets.

__

When Lysa was six she did accept for the first time that her father would not have much time for her or Cat.

Three-year-old Edmure was more important because he was their heir.

She was old enough to understand that Edmure would be Lord Tully someday and Cat and she would marry some other Lords and have their babes.

She did not understand why Cat could not be Lord of the Keep. Her sister was the most clever person she knew after all. She just knew _everything_.

One afternoon she was sitting with her Uncle and drinking juice. Well, Lysa was drinking the juice, while Brynden had sweet tea.

“Uncle?”, she asked as he was writing something. Lysa was too lazy to try to read it. Learning her letters was difficult sometimes, even if Cat said she needed to learn anyway. “Yes, Sweetling?”

“Why can’t Cat be the Lord of Riverrun? She is the oldest of us after all.”, She nodded to underline her statement. Her auburn hair bouncing with the motion. Brynden laughed and caressed her little juice stained face. “Only boys can inherit their fathers’ keep when they become man grown.”, he explained.

She mulled over it for a moment. “Is this why Edmure is so much more important than us?” Brynden looked sad at that and Lysa tilted her head as she watched the adult weird behavior. Big blue starring up at him.

“Sweetling, you have to listen to me very carefully.”

Lysa nodded again, not really knowing what to do.

“You and Cat may not be able to inherit land or titles, but you are both very intelligent and pretty and capable. Your father has a lot to do and not always the time he wished he had for you. He loves you. I love you too.”

Lysa smiled at him. She didn’t believe him since little Edmure would be as important as Father, and Cat was so pretty and clever. Lysa was neither of those things. But she hugged her uncle anyway.

__

When Lysa was eight her father had told them that another boy would live with them in the future since his father was a friend of his.

Weeks later little six-year-old Petyr Beilish arrived at Riverrun.

He was short, very much so.

Edmure was only five but already taller than the other boy, but Petyr seemed nice enough. Maybe he would play more with Cat and Lysa since their brother was very secluded and had more lessons to attend then the girls. Petyr was a Lordling but he was not as important as Edmure and maybe he could help out when the girls were fighting.

Petyr was a fine friend Lysa decided after a few weeks. He would always tag along when Cat and she wanted to investigate something. He was clever and quick on his feet. Lysa liked him rather much.

“Petyr, come!”, Lysa was pulling on his sleeve, inpatient to show her friend a patch of flowers she had found. Cat was visiting Father in his study with Edmure to discuss something. Lysa did not know what it was about. Apparently, it was for firstborn and heirs nothing a second daughter or a low ranking Lord’s son could concern themselves with. So, she had Petyr all to herself while she tried to not feel hurt.

It was just the way their world worked.

“What is it, my Lady.”, Lysa blushed at small Petyr’s words. He was so nice to her and Cat both. As he told them that he wanted to make his father proud by impressing their father and make a name for himself and his house. Lysa was impressed by that. She did not really think about things like this since people had little expectations for her and she was not sure what she wanted yet.

But Lysa liked it best to have Petyr for herself like this. He was charming and knew a lot about the Seven Kingdoms already. He was always complimenting the Tully girls. But Lysa felt like he was focusing more on Cat when she was with them.

Here right now, he could only compliment her.

“You have to wait.” She told him with a huge grin. “And I told you to call my Lysa.” She enjoyed him calling her _his_ Lady, but Petyr did not need to know that.

The flowers were outside one of the yards of Riverrun. They were a vibrant red and to Lysa, they had an almost hypnotic effect. She knelt ignoring the stains that would surely form on her dress. Small fingers caressed blood-red petals.

Lysa smiled. They were so nice and soft. Startled she looked up again to find Petyr watching her. There was a kind of expression in the younger boy’s face, she could not place or understand. Instead, she elected to smile at him. “Will you sit next to me?”

Petyr shook his head for a moment and slowly a smile crept back into his nice green-gray eyes. “Of course, my Lady.”, He did so and quickly Petyr helped Lysa picking out the right flowers to weave flower crowns with.

After a while, Petyr wore a pretty red crown of flowers on his head and he sat the second one on Lysa’s head. Her stomach flipped curiously as the boy's fingers brushed her temple and auburn hair. She was not sure what that meant yet.

They stayed longer after that. Lysa worked quickly with sure fingers as she made four more crowns of vibrant red blooms.

To Lysa’s surprise and pleasure Petyr took her hand as they were running up to the castle again. Cat and Edmure were just standing with Father outside the door of his study. A warm giddy feeling filed her; even more nicely than the one Petyrs attention gave her because she could present father with the gift she made for him.

“Lysa.”, Lord Hoster's voice was deep and vibrant and familiar. Her smile grew, her pale blue eyes were shining with anticipation. Would her Lord Father praise her for her craftmanship?

“Did you stay outside alone without a guard?”

Her face fell, disappointed.

“Yes.”, she whispered but then remembered her manners. “No, father.”, her voice was clearer, louder. Her posture was straighter, dignified. She was a young Lady in training after all. “But Petyr was with me.”

Hoster sighed and put the flower crown down on a commode by the door without even spearing it a second glance much less wearing it and Lysa’s heart sank. Her father left without another word and instead, she crowned her little brother. Edmure being _Edmure_ was delighted and vowed to be a good King for their make-believe Kingdom.

“Sweetling?”, Uncle Brynden come up to her and asked: “What do you have there?” He put himself between her line of vision and her Father’s abandoned gift. As she explained, he chuckled: “Do I get one too?” It was easy. Talking to her Uncle.

“Cat, do you—?“, she swallowed her question quickly, as she saw how Petyr put _her_ flower crown for _her_ sister, on Catelyn’s head with so much care and attention it made her dread both of them. She saw the blush on Petyr’s face, and she hated it, hated it, _hated it_ -!

Brynden put a warm hand on her shoulder to gain her attention once again. “Will you set it on my head yourself?” He bent down on her level and it was easy to set her little crown on his too-big head. A high giggle escaped her lips as she saw her uncle straighten again. The frightening Ser Blackfish in his dark leathers wearing her red flower crown.

With soft eyes, he knelt down to her once more to embrace her and pressed a tender kiss to her hair. For a moment she felt better.

__

Later that night Lysa was lying in her comfortable bed in the soft light of the moon and found that she could not sleep.

She was too confused by her own feelings, her own anger that burned deep in her belly. Why was Cat the one that always held everyone's attention? Why was Petyr so quick to abandon Lysa for her? Why did Lysa found herself incapable to be angry at Cat?

Suddenly there was footfall by her door and Lysa healed her breath. Surely the guards of her father would protect her from any intruder, right?

When her door opened it revealed Cat and Lysa did not know how to feel about it either. Part of her wanted her sister to leave so she could keep brewing in her own anger. But Cat was so pretty with white moonlight painting her autumn curls in the color of fire. Her blue eyes shining like a frozen lake.

“ _Are you alright?_ ”, the words came to Lysa in a tune she had not heard since Petyr had arrived at Riverrun. It was a language the girls had invented a few years ago, so even uncle Brynden could not know what his nieces were planning. They had stopped using it for a while as to make their father’s ward feel more welcomed and so their brother would be included more often.

“ _No._ ”, she answered truthfully. “ _I am angry._ ”

At that Cat crawled under Lysa’s covers to lie next to her as they had so many nights when their mother had been ill and their father busy. When Cart’s bigger hand clasped hers, Lysa had to admit it was a source of comfort despite her jealousy. She realized it was jealousy because she wanted Petyr’s undivided attention when they were playing, not him abandoning her for Cat without a thought.

“ _I made the flower crown_.”, she said instead. “ _Petyr had no right to give it to you because I made it for you. Just like I made one for everybody else. The way he presented it to you it felt like he stole it and made it his gift to you. He helped yes, but-_ “

She stopped and tried to reel her anger in. A Lady did not shout in the middle of the night, without an emergency. Especially if she was awake with her sister well after bedtime.

“ _He is really bad at weaving_.”, she said instead with a small smile.

Cat snorted and somehow she managed to sound dignified doing so. “ _I'm not surprised_.” And with a tight embrace, she whispered: “Lets never fight like this again.”

As Lysa was drifting to sleep in her sister’s arms she decided to not be mad with her and Petyr anymore. Cat cared for her feelings as she showed tonight.

And well, it was not Petyr’s fault to prefer Cat, many would.


	2. Lysa II

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Lysa glanced back at him feeling bad for abandoning her friend but Petyr’s eyes were glued to the back of Cat’s head. Her sister did not turn back but chatted away with the guard that was sent for them.

Lysa was ten and Edmure seven when their father asked all his children to his study one afternoon. Petyr had played with all of them before that. Cat and Lysa had been the Princesses Ser Edmure of the Brightrivers and his brother in Arms Petyr of the Silver Hills had to save from a horrible monster.

Lysa knew that Cat was technically too old to still indulge the young boys like this but she was happy she did. Because Lysa enjoyed the few occasions all four of them got to still play silly little games like this. It made it feel like they were all equal parts of their family.

But Petyr was not a Tully and so he had to stay behind as the others left to see Hoster.

Lysa glanced back at him feeling bad for abandoning her friend but Petyr’s eyes were glued to the back of Cat’s head. Her sister did not turn back but chatted away with the guard that was sent for them.

Again jealousy rallied at the bottom of her stomach like a venomous snake trapped there. She took a deep breath and prayed to all the faces of God that she would be strong enough to banish those feelings. She loved Cat with all her heart. Her sister had taken over to fill the position their mother left without even complaining and Lysa would always be grateful for that. But she loved Petyr too and she could not help but wish for his love in return.

Their father was sitting in his chair in front of his heavy oak desk like a stature, like the powerful Lord he was. Lysa learned early that there was a huge difference between her father who had rocked her to sleep as a child and Lord Tully, the stern and responsible Lord Paramount of the Trident.

After the loss of their mother and Edmure’s birth Father had been there less and less and the person who reigned over their keep and life was only Lord Tully. Lysa would never speak such a thought out loud but Uncle Brynden was more a father to the four children than Lysa could ever remember Hoster be.

Maybe because Mother had been dead for so long.

“Children, please sit.”, Lord Tully did not look up from his documents, as the Tully’s sat on the cushioned seats standing ready. Lysa watched Cat, who sat straight, dignified. She wore a nice maroon dress with silver fishes stitched to the hem. Her autumn-colored hair was pinned up with silver needles.

Her blue eyes were watching Hoster with anticipation Lysa could not place. As she shot Edmure a questioning look her brother just shrugged. Not seeming to know what was going on himself.

“I want to let you know that I have struck a betrothal for Catelyn.” Cat sat even straighter if that was even possible. “It will not be officially announced for a few years since Catelyn is still so young and there are still Lords that want to marry their sons to her since she is in line to inherit Harrenhall.”

Lysa squirmed a bit. Cat going to be engaged was only one step away from Cat getting wed and leaving Riverrun. Leaving _her_.

“I agreed with Lord Rickard Stark to marry Catelyn to his heir Brandon.”

Contemplating Lysa glanced over to her sister again. Cat seemed pleased. Lysa on the other hand was not sure if this was a good idea. Granted Brandon was the heir of a great house, an old house, but the Starks rarely left the North, they kept to themselves and worshiped other gods.

Also, Lysa knew next to nothing about Brandon himself except that he was said to be handsome and tall. And two years older than Cat. What if he would not care for her precious older sister?

Cat, on the other hand, lowered her head with poise: “I thank you for this splendid match, father.” Lord Tully nodded absently and ushered them out again. Lysa was solemn. When would she be betrothed? When would Cat or she leave Riverrun for good? Leave Edmure, leave Petyr…

To marry strangers.

Maybe, _maybe_ , Father would agree to let her wed Petyr. Maybe if she was his wife before Gods and Men and Cat was so far, far away from them, then maybe Petyr would learn to love her.

A girl could dream.

__

A few days later Lysa sitting next to Petyr in the high grass. The sun was shining, the birds were chirping and Cat sat at his other side, stitching a handkerchief with silver strands. Petyr was handsome in the bright light. His dark hair looked as if it was soft to the touch and his eyes seemed more green than anything else.

Lysa’s heart beat hard against her ribcage just watching him.

“What would you say my Ladies.”, Petyr’s voice was smooth. Way too smooth for an eight-year-old boy. “Should we practice kissing? To make sure all of us will be sufficient for our future spouses.” His tone changed slightly at future spouses. He had learned of the planned union between Cat and Brandon Stark. And he had been in a sour mood for three days straight.

And even now he reacted bitterly every time someone even mentioned the name Stark around him. Lysa hated it so much, she could barely put it into words. She was not sure _why_ but she also felt like she could not tell Cat that she fancied Petyr. She did not _know_ why but it seemed like the most embarrassing thing in the world to admit such a thing to her competition. (and when it came to Petyr’s affection Cat was competition..)

Cat sighed and put her project aside. She smiled at Petyr and Lysa dreaded the way his whole face lit up. Why could he not look at her like that? Why was it always Cat?

“Fine.”, Cat’s voice was nice and even. “But I will only allow a peck on the lips.” Petyr nodded eagerly and Lysa’s heart sank once again.

So, Petyr stretched himself to meet Cat’s lips. She still had to bow herself down to him too. Lysa turned away and her fingers drilled themselves into the ground, clutching onto the grass around her as she took a breath and swallow her jealousy. (A part of her wondered when she would choke on it…)

“Petyr!” Lysa’s head snapped to Cat at her shriek. Her sister glared at their friend as the boy shot her a sheepish grin. “I am very sorry, my Lady.” But no one believed that. Cat rubbed her face absently and rolled her eyes. Lysa on the other hand grabbed Petyr’s face and turned it towards her before pressing her lips to his.

Her heartbeat like a battle drum and there was anticipation running under her skin. Petyr smiled against her lips and it made her eyes flutter shut. As she tried to memorize every impression of his mouth as they moved carefully against each other. Lysa almost jumped out of her skin as she felt Petyr’s wet and hot tongue lick against her lower lip and without thinking too hard about it she opened her mouth readily for him.

He tasted sweet. There was heat pooling in the bottom of her stomach as he licked the inside of her mouth. Exploring her. Lysa grabbed for Petyr’s tunic desperate to feel him closer, Kissing back even if it was sloppy and inexperienced.

“Okay!”, Cat’s voice was almost panicked, as she yanked Petyr away from her little sister. “That is enough-!”, her voice was high pitched and definitely panicked. “If someone would see this! This went way too far-!”

Lysa blinked up at her sister’s beet-red face. The sun was stinging in her eyes. It was way too bright now. Her skin still burned.

__

Lysa walked into Cat’s study after her history lesion. Cat was sitting by her desk quill in hand as she wrote away. Cat’s face was solemn and her once tidy hair was falling out of her braid and into her face in deep auburn strands. Lysa knew that the letter was for Brandon Stark right away.

“Cat.”, she tried quietly as she sat on the floor next to her sister’s chair. Catelyn stopped and put the wet quill away carefully. But she had a smile for her little sister. In moments like this Lysa felt guilty for being so envious but she hardly remembered them when it counted.

“What is it, little one?”, Cat’s hand found her own hair and stroked it in soothing circles. “Do you like Brandon Stark?”, Lysa asked timidly. Cat laughed for a moment. “How could I? I don’t know him.”

“But why would you marry him if you don’t even like him?”, the younger girl inquired. She was aware that most marriages of nobles were arranged for political reasons but surely Fathers cared for their daughters' love and feelings. She told Cat as much.

The other girl looked at her all sad. Right there she looked so much older than her twelve years. “It does not matter if I like or even love Brandon, sweetling. He is a great match. Of course, it would be nice if I would grow to love him in due time, but I have to bear his children and fulfill my duties as his wife when we are to marry. Its an honor after all.”

“Family, Duty, Honor…”, Lysa mumbled their house words quietly. Cat was certainly a perfect Tully daughter. But wasn’t she afraid? Afraid to end up in the cold wasteland that was the north all by herself?

Lysa had asked the septa about the history of the Starks and the North. And if one thing had become very clear to her, it was that Northerners didn’t really trust strangers or southerners, only their own. But here Cat was, confident that she would make their father proud…

“Do you want to see my letter, little one?”. Cat passed her the sheet of now dried ink. “Maybe if you read his answers, you would now that he was loyal.”

_Lord Branon,_

_as my father had told me that we should be betrothed to each other in due time, so I saw it as proper to introduce myself to you. I would like to know a few things about you before we will meet for the first time. I am confident that we might become friends at least._

_I am writing this letter, to ask you to tell me a few things about the North and your Family. Sure, I had my history lessons but since I never saw the North with my own two eyes it would be nice to hear about from someone living there._

_I would love it if you would tell me about your siblings too._

_The Riverlands are known for its rich and fertile land. And I can attest to it with stories about flowers and fruits of my childhood here. And of course, Rivers. I could tell you a story or two about the mischief my siblings did around those._

_I hope my letter finds you in high spirits, my Lord._

_You curious future Betrothed,_

_Catelyn Tully_

Lysa put down the letter and could not help but smile at her sister. She was only twelve after all. If this Brandon Stark would answer in turn and they could spark a correspondence than maybe Lysa would feel better about her sister’s future.

She handed the paper back and kissed her sister’s cheek.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> A bit of development with Cat/Brandon and some shananigans with Petyr.
> 
> Next chapter is Jaime's POV


	3. Jaime I

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Jaime’s earliest memory was him falling asleep next to Cersei in her bed, his arm slung around her waist and her head resting up to him so that she even breathe could tickle his face.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Have some Jaime and his childhood ;)

Jaime could not remember his birth obviously, but he gladly believed that he came into this world holding on to Cersei.

His twin. His other half.

When they were babes, only their mother could tell them apart. Jaime also believed that readily. After all Cersei and he had the same blonde hair and the same clear green eyes. Seeing how little Time Tywin had for them growing up because of work, it was not hard to see why only Joanna really knew her twins.

But their mother had died during their brother’s birth and so the only other person left that knew Jaime was Cersei.

He had clung to his older sister all thru out their childhood. Cersei was smarter than him and frustrated by the fact that their father wouldn’t let her get the same education as him. While Jaime had on# more than one occasion back then, were he wanted to burst into tears over his numbers, but he was too afraid of Tywin’s wrath to actually cry publicly.

Cersei hated Tyrion with a burning passion Jaime barely understood. Sure, their mother had died giving birth to the small boy, and even though he was sad and only remembered bits and pieces about Lady Joanna, he could not bring himself to hate his brother.

Wasn’t the little dwarf punished enough to be deformed like this?

As far as Jaime saw it, Tyrion wanted the same things as Cersei. Their father’s recognition and attention. But Tywin refused them both. While Cersei was only there to be pretty for him, Tyrion was completely ignored.

Jaime for his part could have done with a little less attention and pressure. Tywin wanted him to be the perfect boy, knight, and future Lord, but no one stopped and asked him what _he_ wanted.

He could not remember the first time he had kissed Cersei. It felt that their romantic connection had always been there. It was a part of them, as much as breathing in air.

When he looked at Tyrion and thought about how he loved him, he sometimes would ask himself when the lines with Cersei had blurted so much. Because he loved Tyrion, he guessed, as someone was supposed to love one’s sibling. But he had rarely time to think about if his relationship with Cersei was wrong, let alone feel guilty about it.

He rHe remembered his history lessons and sure he had always been a bad student, but he remembered the Targaryen marrying their children to each other for generations. Their own Queen was the King’s younger sister and no one in The Seven Kingdoms dared to say something about it. If the Targaryen were special; why couldn’t they be special too? Why couldn’t he love Cersei without guilt?

__

He remembered the first time he had to see the King, or when he and Cersei were six and old enough to recall it. He remembered holding his mother’s hand. He remembered seeing his father smile. He only saw him smile around his mother. Sweet Joana had petted his hair and called him her golden lion. Her favorite boy.

Aerys had been a normal man back then. Handsome and charismatic even.

A friend of his father and the King. Jaime had stood in the throne room with the Dragon Bones starring down on him and he had healed onto Cersei’s hand as if his life depended on it. The King had a boy too, but Prince Rhaegar was not interested in playing with Jaime, so he did his best to ignore him.

Back than Jaime decided that he did not like the Red Keep that much.

But watching the tourney was an almost religious experience. It was the first time Jaime made a decision for himself, only for himself, that he would become a knight. He would devote himself to his sword.

__

Jaime’s earliest memory was him falling asleep next to Cersei in her bed, his arm slung around her waist and her head resting up to him so that she even breathe could tickle his face.

He was never more content than those nights. Back then he had not known how fast and abrupt this would end, how rare slow and soft moments between them would get. Back then his rooms were directly next to hers and he would spend more time in her bedroom than his.

One day it all blew up in their faces. He did not really remember the sensation itself. He knew that he had kissed Cersei and let her touch him, his brain fuzzy and nice and good. Cersei tasted like the pastries they had earlier.

Suddenly there was a loud gasp and the flattering of fabric. Jaime first barely registered it too focused on the burning sensation in his lower stomach and the loss of Cersei’s skin of him. When he finally composed enough to open his eyes. He got the last glimpse of a servant girl's horrified face. Those wide grey eyes spraying disgust were forever burned into his memory.

The twins did not understand why she had reacted like this, but before one of them, the girl hurried out of the room again. The door banged against the wall in deafening silence and Jaime was left there with his sister not knowing what was going on but he felt like he had to vomit.

Whatever it was what they did wrong….

A few minutes later their mother burst into the room. His beautiful, gentile mother had her face was scrunched up into a worried and disgusting expression. She had demanded what was going on. Her voice was wavering, bordering on hysterical.

Only when she saw the tears stinging in her children’s eyes did she compose herself. She had pulled them close one after the other. She explained why it was wrong for Cersei to touch her brother like this, why it was a monstrosity against the gods. But Cersei had just looked up to her with absent eyes and said nothing.

After that Joanna had moved him to the other side of the caste and posted a guard in front of Cersei’s rooms, so he could not sneak in anymore. Joanna had looked at them with iron in her eyes and said that if she caught them again, she had to inform their father.

Jaime still did not see why he and Cersei were wrong but if their mother's reaction was anything to go by, he did not want Tywin to find out.

When he had cried and raged when his things were moved and promised his mother panicked that he would listen, that he would be a good boy as long as she would let him stay with Cersei, Joanna had kissed his locks and told him that it was for the better.

That night he cried himself to sleep, not knowing what he was to do with himself without Cersei being next to him. He looked horrible the next day, while Cersei was as pretty as ever sending him long glances.

The girl that had found them vanished from the castle not long after. He never thought about it.

__

And then Tyrion was born, his ugly, screaming little brother. The little babe that his father hated so much and Cersei had no problem falling into the sentiment too, calling the little boy disgusting.

When Joanna died from the aftermath of the birth, Cersei’s indifference turned into real unparalleled hate and Jaime’s heart was breaking. Tyrion was so small, would always be small and he would bever know the warmth of their mother’s kisses and the way she would brush their hair and her bell-like laughter. All little Tyrion would know was their father who after his wife died only grew more distant and unattainable. And Cersei hated him too.

It was their first real fight since Cersei was convinced, he was wrong for giving Tyrion attention and love. It did not last long though. Because now without Joanna their secret was safe. As he curled up against Cersei again after drinking from her demanding lips again, he tried to not feel guilty about his joy.

And everything was whole again.

__

The Princess of Dorne was a beautiful woman with dark eyes and soft features. Her children were nice too he guessed. Prince Oberyn was fierce and wild and Jaime did not dislike him even though he thought himself better than the Lannisters. Jaime just shrugged. The older boy was a prince after all, but Cersei and Father hated it.

Princess Elia was graceful and lovely like her mother and she was the only one to soften her brother's fierce nature. It became quickly apparent to Jaime that Oberyn loved his sister unconditionally. Not like _he loved Cersei_ , no. It was different love, but both feelings were big and important and unconditional.

So, when Oberyn’s mother proposed a betrothal between Elia and Jaime the other boy’s good-natured friendliness turned sour quickly. “You don’t deserve, my Elia.”, he had spat at him. “She is perfect but she would never be happy here.” A part of Jaime wanted to tell him that he did not want to marry Elia, that to him Cersei was perfect and he didn’t want to share a bed with anyone else. He kept his mouth shut though, knowing better now.

It was the first time Jaime realized that he would have to marry a girl one day, a girl that was not Cersei. And more importantly, Cersei would marry someone else and leave him here, alone.

But his father did not want him to marry sweet Elia. He talked about dirty dornish men and that had been the end of that conversation.

__

Jaime was ten when Tywin held a tourney at their home. It was in honor of the new Prince Viserys and of course, the King came and brought his older son. Rhaegar was a knight by then, handsome and intelligent.

Cersei used any excuse to spent time with him, blushing pink and pretty when he complimented her with a polite smile. Jaime hated it. Hated the Prince for it.

And when his father tried to ask if Jaime could squire for him, Jaime was sure he would lose it and punch Rhaegar one of these days. He hated his stuck up behavior and his popularity, so he was not disappointed when the King denied his father.

That occasion was also the first time he saw Arthur Dayne. The young knight was so impressive, so skilled, Jaime could not stop talking about him for a week after. It was a big catalysator for Jaime’s hard training after the tourney.

__

With elven Jaime was sent to Crackehall by Tywin to squire for the Lord there. He liked it fine enough, if it wasn’t for the distance to Cersei and the rare times, he could see her.

There were other boys his age that were just as eager to prove themselves as he was and hell he loved being praised for his skill with a sword. There was something freeing about being away from his demanding father.

Lord Summer was a patient mentor and Jaime learned fast under him.

Other than missing Cersei’s present Jaime felt bad about leaving little Tyrion alone with Father and Cersei.

But what could he have done?

__

Cersei’s kiss was sweet. They always were. It was one of the now rarer occasions that he could be at the Rock again. The twins were twelve now and Jaime was non to be a skilled swordsman already. Soon they would turn thirteen almost of age.

He was sitting in the sunlight in a hidden part of the hills, his head in his sister’s lap as she showered him in kisses and racked his hair with skilled hands. The warm sunlight tickled his skin and he was at ease.

“Father wants me to go to King’s Landing soon.”, Cersei’s words were like a bucket of cold water, making him sit up with a shudder. “What?”, he asked intelligently. She did not look at him. “He wants me to marry Rhaegar and I should show the King that I am a good match.” Rage boiled Jaime’s blood so quick he could get whiplash from it. “Marry Rhaegar?”, he asked coolly.

Cersei turned to him with equally cold eyes. “Yes, I have to marry eventually and I would be Queen.” there was a dangerous glint in her green eyes. “I would be able to do what I want and Rhaegar is not a bad man.”

When she studied his expression, she cupped his cheek and brushed her thumb against his warm skin but it only felt disappointing. “You are the only man I love.”, she promised.

He still hated the fact that she would leave to be further away, but Cersei kissed him deep and rough until he had no mind to think about those things anymore.


	4. Lysa III

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> She had to smile. If she learned anything yet, then it was that the Stark siblings stuck together, no matter what.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Hello guys,  
> I hope you all had a good weekend. Here we go with an early and long chapter  
> Enjoy!

_Dear Lysa,_

_I appreciate your letter and the concern you and Edmure have for your sister. As I can understand your love and worry for her. I can tell you that my brother can be very annoying sometimes. He is stubborn and wild as an untamed horse sometimes. He will disobey father sometimes in ways that would make Ned have nightmares._

_(As you will learn soon Ned is a goodie-two-shoes that would never dishonor our house by defying father in the open or anything exciting ever.)_

_But all in all, I would say he is a good man. If I can say so as his sister. As this makes me biased. He cares deeply for the people he loves and he would never betray them._

_Did I tell you that he can be annoying? He will leave me behind when he goes hunting and will spend more time in the training yard than with me or his studies._

_I guess he is handsome? It’s really uncomfortable to think about things like this as his sister. As you probably understand. But a lot of girls and women here agree. He likes their attention and would go visit the town sometimes if you know what I mean…_

_But father and Ned are convinced that he will be loyal and honorable as soon as he would be committed to your sister. (I cannot say anything in that regard though.)_

_I must say I like the thought that you care so much about your Cat that you would send me a letter like this (and as far as I can tell you sent Ned one too) Family is very important in the north as it probably is to your family._

**_~~Lya, their family words are Family Duty Honor. That is a stupid sentence. I apologize. My sister does not like her history lessons-~~ _ **

_~~Shut up, Benjen no one asked you!~~ _

__

Lysa set the letter away for a moment and allowed herself to laugh. Lyanna had written that she liked her already for she cared about her older sister’s future husband and wellbeing. If her letters were anything like the girl, Lysa would say she liked Lyanna too. Even if she was as wild as she accused her eldest brother to be. Lyanna Stark seemed to be a girl with clear goals and strong opinions and Lysa could respect that.

_However. Father trusts that your sister will be a good wife for Brandon because she has knowledge in categories he neglected and that they might complement each other’s strengths._

_I don’t know if this is true, but I guess we will see in the future._

_I also hope you will keep me updated as this engagement goes on as I and Benjen will too (and Ned probably as well)_

_I cannot speak for Ned, but Benjen and I have agreed that if Brandon does not behave honorable with Catleyn that we will help you and Edmure plan your revenge. Brandon needs to learn that his wife should be the only woman in his life._

_Your new friend and maybe future kin,  
Lyanna Stark._

Lysa scammed over the latter a last time before she passed it onto a fuzzing and complaining Edmure, who read it with a bit difficult but still high interested.

She watched her little brother scrunch up his face in concentration and she had to smile and refrain from ruffling his red locks. Since they had discussed writing some of the Stark siblings the first-time many months had passed. She was eleven now and soon she would be twelve. But the closer Cat was getting to marrying age, the more urgent the need to protect her grew. (There was an ugly part of her in the back of her head, cackling and calling her a liar. That she only did this to get Cat out of the way to have a chance with Petyr.)

Shaking her head, she grabbed the second letter that had come in that day. The Stark seal on that one was unbroken just yet. She snapped the direwolf in half and smoothed the sheet out.

_Dear Lady Lysa,_

_I am pleased to know that my future good sister has such protective siblings. I am sure you will give Brandon a run for his money should he ever mistreat Catelyn (Even though I don’t think he would ever hurt her intentionally.)_

_The fact that you wrote my sister too, makes me sure that Lyanna would also make sure that Brandon stays in line. If you received her letter yet, you certainly know what I am talking about._

She had to smile. If she learned anything yet, then it was that the Stark siblings stuck together, no matter what. They had the kind of relationship Lysa strained to have with her siblings too. Sure, the secret endeavor to find out more about Brandon Stark had bought her and little Edmure closer, than she had ever thought she would be to him.

But her relationship with Cat was still difficult and strained, in some aspects, especially when it came to Petyr. Lysa was aware that it was her fault in part because she could not reign in her jealousy and even though she knew that Cat did not reciprocate Petyr’s love, Lysa could not bring herself to be angry with him.

With a sigh, she pushed those conflicting emotions way back into her mind, where they would not disturb her as she kept reading. She was doing this for Cat because she loved her.

_I can assure you, my Lady, that my brother is an honorable man already. He is a man of strong emotion though. Sometimes his anger and his grieve can take the better of him and lead to irrational decisions. I suppose my father hopes your sister will be the force who grounds him and reminds him of his duties in the future, should they be wed._

_Brandon is perceived as good looking by most women who met him so far. He is taller and stronger than me. He is also a good fighter and a capable man._

_I am not sure what you exactly want to know from me?_

_I love my brother and sure he has his flaws, but I honestly think he could make a relationship with your sister's work. He is passionate about the people he loves and he can be funny occasionally._

_At this point I should probably be completely honest with you, Brandon would not go into this marriage sexually inexperienced. He is almost sixteen now and he had the one other relation with a girl already. I will not tell you the names of those individuals as it would compromise their lives in a way that I can not bring myself to be responsible for._

_I personally don’t think he was ever in love with any of them, but as a sign of goodwill and friendship, I thought it important, to be honest with you._

_If you have any questions, please don’t hesitate to write to me or Lyanna again._

_With kind regards.  
Eddard Stark_

Lysa smiled at Eddard, Ned’s formal but honest approach. He seemed to be a brooding and quiet young man but he loved his siblings and had a sense of duty Cat would certainly admire. Lysa did not know if Eddard considered her a friend like his sister but she considered him an ally. And was this not what marriage between noble houses were all about?

“Lysa! Edmure!”,

She perked up at the sound of Petyr’s voice. All Stark boys wild and brooding alike were forgotten and she hopped out of her chair to run up to the boy. He was still smaller than him. Edmure had started to call him ‘Little Finger’ a while back, for both his height and his home.

Grey-Green eyes flickered over the grey seals of her letters and then shortly to her face. With disappointment settling in her bones, Lysa watched Petyr’s mood darken immediately from the sighed.

With a heavy heart, she pulled a complaining Edmure from her desk and from Lyanna Stark’s letter to go and get dinner. She would answer the Stark siblings in the morning she reckoned. She should spend a few hours with her friend and secret love.

__

_Dearest Lyanna,_

_I thank you for your direct and insightful answer._

_I hope we can be fast friends, Lyanna._

_I am not sure what Cat would say to your Brother being defiant of your father’s orders. She is a perfect daughter in that regard, being polite and rational when she has a different opinion as him._

_(Most of the time anyway)_

_But Cat can be stubborn and self-righteous. She is the eldest of us after all and she had taken mother’s duties over fairly early so I guess that makes sense to her. But Cat is hardworking and loving, taking care of the people she loves, even if it takes a toll on her._

_She is my sister and I love her very much._

_I suppose it is awkward for a sister to assess her brother’s attractiveness. If someone asked me if I think Edmure handsome I would probably just blink and them and tell them that he is a baby._

_I am counting on your help should Brandon break Cat’s heart deliberately. Eddard told me about his relations with girls up north. I don’t know how to feel about that. I suppose for a man that is the norm, but as a young girl myself, it fills me, with worry, for both Cat and the reputation of those girls. I don’t think I could stand that in my future._

_Naturally, I will keep you up to date as I trust you will too._

_With warm greetings, your new friend.  
Lysa Tully_

Nodding to herself Lysa let the ink dry. She was not lying. Lyanna seemed to be a nice girl. Wild and unpredictable but the kind of girl Lysa would usually not meet and a part of her was eager to get to know her better.

Lysa did not have any friends besides her siblings and Petyr, befriending a girl her age left her with a tickling feeling in her system. Lyanna was something new, something just for Lysa. Someone she maybe could share her thoughts with.

Yes, Lysa decided. She wanted to be Lyanna Stark's friend.

_Dear Eddard,_

_I thank you for your quick and insightful answer._

_I also hope my letter finds you, Robert Baratheon and Lord Arryn well._

_I have to say there are still things about Brandon that make me worry for my beloved sister a bit. She had never been in love with a boy before and I fear that he might break her heart by being indifferent to her._

_Yes, I am aware that other men, better and worse men could make the same mistake. But it is Brandon Cat will marry if our fathers don’t change their minds._

_Cat is very warm and caring. Especially to our brother Edmure, she is like a second mother. As she took it upon herself to look after him after our mother passed. I am confident she would make a great mother to the future heirs of your house._

_I have not told her about your brother’s relations. Like I said I don’t think she would take it lightly even though their engagement is still not announced._

_Cat can be stubborn too. I know that father thinks her to be a perfect Lady and she is great and resourceful when it comes to her duties but he does not know her as I or Edmure do. She can be loyal to a fault and argue for argument's sake since she usually is very convinced of her own opinion. (Usually, she is right but that is beside the point.)_

_I would like to ask you if you could tell me a bit about the North. Your customs and traditions, as well as the Land. I discovered that southern Maesters don’t really concern themselves with your people. And I want Cat to be able to honor her new home._

_~~Your thankful pen pal~~ _

_~~With warm regards.~~ _

_Yours respectfully  
Lysa Tully_

She looked at the drying lettering. She was insecure about her relationship with the Stark spare. Writing to Lyanna had been easier. The girl was her age and seemed to be very straight forward while valuing this in other people too. Lysa might guess that Eddard might be similar in that regard, but his letter had been mostly polite in tone. So, she had no idea what he might really think.

It stayed on her mind, while she heated the dark blue wax. Would she get along with her sister’s good siblings? In a way that made them her siblings too, right? Well, if Cat would not marry Brandon in the end, she had gotten an exercise for her writing.

The leaping spout was marked into it and Lysa ran off to the rookery.

__

_Dear Lady Lysa._

_I hope you and Edmure are well. Jon has tasked me with returning your well-wishes for him and he also asked that you direct his greeting to your Lord Father._

She frowned over the paper. Would Father dislike the fact that she had interacted with Lord Arryn thru Eddard? She had thought it impolite to continue her correspondence with Eddard in the Vale when she did not even address it’s Lord.

Did she overstep a line?

_Lady Catelyn sounds like a remarkable young woman and I am sure Brandon will be as thrilled as I am to meet her one day soon. As I am to call her my good sister some far day in the future._

_The people in the north pride themselves with being descendants of the First Men, even though thru intermarriage with the South most of our houses do have Andal blood as well._

_Our winter is the hardest and even our summer holds the one or other instance of Summer snow. The Lands of the North are vast and do not always bare the necessary grain and fruit for our daily consumption, not without hard work anyway._

_A thing I personally had to get accustomed to in the Vale was how meticulous southerners hold onto court customs and manners. As court life and amusement do not play a significant role in Winterfell. We are men that believe in justice and treasure Guest Right religiously._

_Most of us follow the Old Gods and our God Woods still home heart trees, in contrast to the southron keeps good woods which seem more garden than a place of worship. On the other hand, you will not find a sept that easy and with this an anointed knight._

_I will stop now before I may bore you to death._

_Yours  
Eddard_

Lysa decided that she did like Eddard rather well. He had granted her request and he did seem as insecure talking to her as she felt most of the time.

She smiled into the paper.

_Dear Eddard,_

_I don’t have much to tell you this time around but I wanted to take a minute to thank you for your kindness and your patience with my nosy self._

_I hope I can meet you and Brandon and Lyanna and Benjen soon!_

_Your pen pal  
Lysa_

Petyr looked over her shoulder and frowned. “What? Are you infatuated with a dumb wolf now too?”, he asked and startled the young Tully girl.

She blushed and tried to hide her letter, smudging her signature in the process. (Maybe she was blushing also) “What are you saying?”, she shot him a dark look. “I wrote both Eddard and Lyanna to ask them about Brandon-“

He rolled her eyes and she grew more and more irritated with him. “because I care about Cat.”

“And I don’t?”, Petyr’s face was deliberately neutral but his words had been sharp. “Besides: Eddard is the only one that you are still writing to now.”

He turned and left her rooms again. Lysa fumed with jealousy. It was all about Cat all the damned time, wasn’t it?

And it was not her fault that Lyanna had stopped responding to her even if it left her hollow inside.

__

_Lysa,_

_I was arranged to marry Robert Baratheon someday. He is Ned’s best friend but even though everyone is assuring me that he is handsome, the thought of sharing the rest of my life with him makes my sick._

_Ned is happy. ~~He loves him more than me or Benjen or Brandon.~~ But Robert is known as a skirt chaser and I don’t want him._

_I don’t know why I write to you about it._

_~~We are not friends. I have never seen you before after all.~~ _

_~~I don’t know…~~ _ _I guess I hope you are doing well._

_Lyanna_

Lysa scrunched up her face, reading the short letter a second time. Robert Baratheon was said to be handsome.

But more importantly: Why was Lyanna writing her again all of the sudden? She did not care for the last two letters Lysa had sent her and now she wrote to complain about her own betrothal? When Lysa didn’t have one herself yet.

She decided to not reply. Lyanna Stark made it clear that she was not her friend.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Let me know what you think about my Lysa/Ned friendship aproache lol


	5. Jaime II

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> But were Lysa was pretty and Catelyn was Beautiful, Cersei was breathtakingly stunning.
> 
> Maybe he was biased but he did not care much for objectivity.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Hello,  
> I call this chapter: Jaime is an intitled 13-year-old.   
> Is that how you imagined them to meet? Lol

“Lysa had been a pretty girl, in truth; dimpled and delicate, with long auburn hair.

Timid, though. Prone to tongue-tied silences and fits of giggles, with none of Cersei's fire.

Her older sister had seemed more interesting, though Catelyn was promised to some northern boy, the heir of Winterfell ...”

-Jaime V AFFC

Jaime was not sure why he was made to go to Riverrun. Why Ser Summer couldn’t have sent someone else. He had planned to go to King’s Landing soon, to see Cersei again.

He ached for her. For her laugh, her touch, her presence in his life.

But instead, he was on horseback with a sealed letter in his west and gloomy thoughts in his head. Hid things were far behind him, but Jaime did not care that much. He just needed an outlet for his anger and hasted down the Kingsroad was helping a little bit.

Deep down he knew how angry his father would be when he would learn that Jaime was riding without a guard escort. He couldn’t bring himself to care. He was thirteen years old, almost a man, grown and he was the best swordfighter amongst the other boys his age. Nothing a lowly bandit could defeat.

In the end, he made it to Rivverrun, quick, and without incident.

He would tell his father as much.

__

When he got to stop behind the keep’s main gate, he was surprised to find the Tullys waiting for him. Hoster Tully, a broad man with a long beard and piercing blue eyes, approached him. Jamie bowed dutifully to greet the Lord of the Keep.

“It is an honor to have you here, lad.”, the man nodded to him. “As it is mine to visit your family, my Lord.”, Jaime replayed lazily. Hoster did not really bother with an answer. Instead, he introduced his family to the Lordling.

“My brother Ser Brynden, the Blackfish.”

The man who was equally as board and tall took Jaime’s hand and squeezed it hard, but he wore a friendly smile.

“We did not expect you so early, boy.”

“I apologize, Ser.” Jaime could not help the wide grin plastering his face. “I wanted to arrive soon, so I ditched my guards and belongings along the way. I hope you don’t mind.”

That earned him a surprised look and his grin only grew wider and wider. But Lord Hoster moved on to a young boy easily enough. “Edmure, my heir.” Jaime nodded as the boy greeted him as bored as he felt.

He was already growing to become as tall as his father and uncle with fine copper locks curling on the top of his head.

“My oldest Catelyn.” The girl was maybe fifteen now, tall and pretty. She stood straight and dignified in a way that reminded him of his Cersei, but her long hair was thicker and spilled copper instead of gold. As she curtsied and smiled her blue eyes shined. She was beautiful, just not as beautiful as Cersei.

“My younger daughter Lysa.” Jaime tried to appear somewhat attentive. He was almost a man and he knew what most maidens thought about him and his looks. Lysa, the girl his father wanted to betroth him too was smaller than her sister and a bit wider too. She had nothing of the grace of her father and sister and her eyes were watery while she blushed obnoxiously.

When Jaime smiled in her direction, the girl giggled sharply and he decided that maybe he should not indulge her than. He did not want that betrothal anyway.

“Lastly Petyr Baelish of the Fingers, my ward.” The boy was smaller than the nine-year-old heir and stared up to Jaime with venom in his eyes, as he bowed. Great a small annoyance.

__

The first few days were fine enough he guessed but he really felt like he was wasting his time when he could have been with Cersei.

A sliver of light of his grim time in the Riverlands was the blackfish. He was a seasoned warrior and true knight who had seen war and battle. More than once in the last four days did Jaime sit down with him and listen to his tales of bloodshed and valor.

It was so enticing he almost forgot that he was supposed to spend time with Lysa Tully.

But spending time with her was difficult for him.

The girl was nice enough he supposed if he had cared enough to notice anyway, but she was immature and constantly nervous around him. On that note, he was not even sure if she liked him. It was an odd thing to say given that they knew each other only those past days and none of the girls running after him were usually interested in _knowing him_ , but she only made a real effort for his attention when her father or sister were around. Otherwise, she was busy writing and plotting with the little brother or spending time with Littlefinger.

It seemed to him that she didn’t really want to marry him. A notion that made him scoff. Who didn’t want to marry him? He was good looking, (Had she seen his face?), tall, a great swards man, the heir to the greatest house in Westeros and _rich_. His sister might become queen. How dare this little fish not wanting him?

He would not try to charm her on his father's behave when she seemed barley interested beyond the idea of becoming Lady Lannister?

She was not even pretty enough to be so rude and insolent. She was passible at best for a highborn girl. If she had more female influence in her household and well a sense of fashion, it might have been better.

Lysa Tully was not as beautiful as his sister. Catelyn or Cat as only her friends called her was already the Lady of her father's keep. She clothed simpler than most court ladies but tasteful anyway. Her coper her was longer and smoother than her sister’s, as were her features softer and her eyes deeper. Catelyn was intelligent, graceful, and talented. Sure, she was annoying at times in her habit of always needing to be right, but it was better than a stupid airhead. Her height gave her long and slender legs.

But were Lysa was pretty and Catelyn was Beautiful, Cersei was breathtakingly stunning.

Maybe he was biased but he did not care much for objectivity.

__

Jaime stepped into the training yard were the Edmure and Littlefinger were practicing with wood swords. He smirked at them. When he had been Littlefinger’s age he long had used blunted steel, now two years later he wore live steel. A gorgeous sword at that.

He watched the boys for a while. Edmure was not bad, but Littlefinger was too small and too skinny for the handling of the sword and this was a mockup. Jaime watched and was not sure if the eleven-year-old would be strong enough to even hold up a real sword.

Even if he would fight. He would never be a knight.

“Jaime?”

Edmure dropped the protective helmet and beamed up at him.

“Uncle Brynden said that you are said to be good with the sword. Care to teach me a thing or two?”

Edmure was not the only boy that had ever asked him that and usually, he would say no even though it always gave him a warm fuzzy feeling, but he was a guest here and he was expected to marry Lysa, eventually. Maybe he should be nice to her brother and future heir to the Riverlands.

So, instead of spending time with the youngest Tully girl, he used hours to correct little mistakes Edmure was still making. Littlefinger had left a while ago with a weak excuse.

__

The fifth day ended with a delicious dinner. As the days before Jaime was seated next to Lysa. The girl was quieter today. Yesterday her high-pitched laughter had filled the hall. Jaime was not sure if something happened or if he was supposed to do something about it. Was he?

This was the first time that he was sent to another Lord’s keep considering a betrothal. Would Father want him to act as he cared for the girl?

Would this kind of attention send the wrong message to the girl? He did not want her. He would, no could not love her. He just was required to marry if he wanted to take his place in this society. She would be just an end to a means. Nothing more.

“Lysa?”, Catelyn watched her sister with a bit of confusion and worry. A perfect older sister. He missed Cersei. “Are you alright?”

“Of course, I am.”, the girl smiled a bit weak and nibbled on her food. Jaime tried and failed not to roll his eyes. Lysa eyed him from the corner of her eyes. When he faced her again, she turned quickly. He sighed.

They ate silently. Lord Hoster was away for two days because of an urgent matter regarding his bannermen. Brynden was sitting with them as were Edmure and Littlefinger.

Jaime felt eyes on him again and turned sharply. This time he caught her. “Lady Lysa?”

“Lord Jaime?”

Using titles was just curtesy none of them had made a name for themselves so far anyway. Brynden didn’t say anything to the tense air between the children, but he did listen in case he needed to intervene. Jaime was acutely aware of that.

“Could you be so kind to explain to me why you treat me as if I have insulted you? Because as far as I can remember I did no such.”

She released a breath in that obnoxious way girl do when they were flippant over something trivial. But then she returned his annoyed glance easily. Her light blue eyes were as cold as a frozen lake. The insecure girl he had to come to know over these couple of days was cone and made room for a young woman as headstrong as maybe Cersei herself.

Something told Jaime that the rest of his stay here wouldn’t be as uneventful if he caught her the wrong way. But he had always been more prideful that it was ever good for him and compared to the rest of his family, he was an idiot.

So, he did the thing he always did. He was ready to lash out.

“The last time I checked, you are here to so we could get acquainted with each other because your fathers’ consider a betrothal between us. Not for you to fret over my brother.”

Jaime blinked at her. Was she serious? “I respect Lord Tywin and Father’s decision and wisdom. As we all here should know that weddings between nobles are hardly ever about love. I know my duty, I had hoped you knew yours.”

“I don’t want to marry you.”, he just stated almost whiny.

She just scoffed. “And you think I want to marry you?” He was taken aback by this plain confession of hers. He did not expect her to defy her father like this. “What can you give me except your father’s reputation and castle. If it comes to it. I will say my vowes, but a silly part of me had hoped for a kind betrothed. Someone who at least could be a friend.”

“Lysa!”, It was Catelyn’s scandalized voice, but Jaime ignored her.

“Is that why you have been mostly ignoring me?”

“Have I’ve been ignoring you or did I gave up after you avoided me for four days straight?”

His lips pressed together in anger. “The Princess of Dorne had asked for me to be betrothed to Princess Elia before. I don’t need you.”

“But your Father refused her, so. I am very sure when it comes down to it, we would need each other…”

Suddenly she stood. “Uncle I’d like to be excused. I don’t feel so well.” And then she was already gone. Jaime watched his cold food and brooded in his bitter feelings. He would rather die than marry Lysa Tully.

He would find a way to be close to Cersei. He would do anything to be close to the only person who loved him. He would do everything he could do. And by the gods, he would not marry the Tully girl.

She was nothing more than a silly little fish.


	6. Lysa IV

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> And for the first time in a while, she grew conscious of the fact that she would have to leave Riverrun eventually. No matter who she would end up marrying.
> 
> She would only see her siblings on big occasions if she was going to see them again at all and maybe she would never see Petyr again.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Hello guys!  
> I had a few messy days but I hope you all are alright.

Lysa wanted to throw the letter against a wall. She had read it several times over the last few days and she could not understand why Lyanna was still writing to her or why she still cared.

_Lysa,_

_I hope you are well._

_Never marry a man that doesn’t respect you or your wishes._

_Robert Baratheon is awful I will not marry him if the Gods help me so._

_Lyanna_

The news that the betrothal between her and Robert was broken reached Riverrun before this letter. Everyone in the seven Kingdoms knew. As they also knew that Lord Baratheon made a new marriage pact with the Lannister, honoring his promise to the Starks, the wolf girl was engaged to Stannis Baratheon now.

Lysa sighed as she crumpled up the sheet of paper. Sitting back in her chair, her thoughts wandered to Jaime Lannister who was sitting with her uncle somewhere. She did not like him. She had decided after the first week. He was handsome, unbelievably so and he was the heir to a fortune and an old, powerful name, but he was an insufferable brat.

Sure, most noble children were spoiled. They all had lived with the advantages and money of having a house name. But the way Jaime Lannister carried himself boiled Lysa’s blood. The way he treated both Edmure and Petyr was more than disrespectful.

And then there was the fact that he seemed to respect Cat just a teeny tiny bit more than her. He actually conversed with her just a bit more often, remembered what she had said to him. They also looked better together. Cat was tall, just like him. A golden knight and his copper princess. Cat looked good with everyone.

But Lysa was also aware that if she would be betrothed to the boy, her feelings would only play a minimal role. Something her father would likely ignore in favor of a successful political alliance. And as a wife, she would be dependent on her husband's favor.

“Lysa?”, Petyr knocked on her door, but his head was already shoved thru the gap in the door. Lysa’s mood brightened immediately and all the grey thoughts of an unloving marriage vanished. Petyr had come to her on his own.

“Yes?” She sounded too eager. She knew that. But the feelings she had for Petyr had always been something precious to her. Then she realized she would be only happy when she could marry him. Because he was her first love. It was so intense, her love for him, that she was sure that she could never love someone like him. No matter that she was not the one that he wanted. She could convince him, she was sure.

“Lannister waits for you. He wants to ride out and see the scenery.”

Lysa suppressed a sigh. “You mean my father wants us to spent time together and he doesn’t give a shit about the Riverlands.”

Petyr just shrugged, grinning, and offered her his arm. She gladly took it anyway.

__

The sun was beating down on them and any other day Lysa would have relished the trip. She didn’t like to ride out per se, but it was a beautiful day. The birds were singing, the flowers were vibrant, the brize was pleasant.

If she would have spent the day with Petyr or her siblings, it would have been great, but instead, she was riding next to Jaime Lannister in a long silence. After almost a fortnight they had little to say to each other.

Gods, Lysa didn’t want to marry him.

A part of her wanted to stay home, but that is not what the young lady was supposed to do. Her worth to her family was measured with the alliances her marriage could forge. Jaime Lannister was a perfect match on paper. Money, power, Looks, but in there was nothing that could connect them. After the last weeks of sharing every meal, they were still strangers. Maybe they even grew to spite each other.

He acted like he was better than them anyway.

As if her father was not a great house’s lord too.

As if Jaime Lannister was so much better than her.

She tried to have fun. Tried to appreciate the wind in her hair and the sun on her skin. Lysa tried to memorize the clear blue of the summer sky and the spark of the rivers and streams in the bright light. If she could paint, she would have tried to capture the beauty of her home.

And for the first time in a while, she grew conscious of the fact that she would have to leave Riverrun eventually. No matter who she would end up marrying.

She would only see her siblings on big occasions if she was going to see them again at all and maybe she would never see Petyr again.

She was so caught up in her sadness that she did not notice Jaime falling into a trot next to her mare. When he spoke to her deafening loud in the nice quietness of the land, she startled embarrassingly. As he was rolling his eyes at her, Lysa glared half-heartedly.

Jaime ignored that and stopped next to a tiny stream, that wormed itself thru a grass plain. She sighed and stopped next to him. Once again there was nothing but silence between them.

“You are in love with Littlefinger.”, Lannister finally said. It was not a question. It was a statement and whatever joy she had felt from the beautiful summer day, left her now completely.

“What does it matter?”, she asked instead of trying to deny the obvious.

He seemed to be caught off guard with her admission. The quick look on this belief in those green eyes, made her feel like she won something. But her prize was questionable at best.

“Why won't you deny it?”, he sounded curious, not necessarily malicious. “People might talk. They might say that he already took your maidenhead. Just because looking at you is enough-“

“I don’t choose to fall in love with him.”, she snapped uncharacteristically. But it had been too much. Lannister in her home, the thread of Cat leaving her, of her leaving Edmure. Petyr loving Cat and only Cat while she suffered thru her pitty full jealously alone. None of it was fair.

“I- I can't help it.”, she repeated weakly.

If Lysa had lingered long enough to look at Jaime, she would have seen the conflicted look in his green eyes. Hurt and recognition. She meant every word through.

She did not choose to love someone so fiercely when she got nothing in return. She did not. Yet she could not help it.

__

A traveling bard and singer had made it to Riverrun this afternoon. So, tonight on Lannister’s the last night in the Riverland’s, her father hosted a small feast.

Lysa grew tired of Jaime’s silence. He had ignored her after their conversation about Petyr earlier. And she could not wait for him to finally leave. She wanted things to be as they were before. When it was just Cat, Edmure, Petyr and her, playing and learning and not caring about much.

Now Petyr was on edge for the day Cat would be married. She, herself was growing desperate for the boy’s affection. While Edmure tried to find his place as heir by rebelling a bit against his older sisters and all Cat really thought about these days were Brandon Stark and the North.

She wanted her childhood back she realized.

“My Lady.” Lysa startled out of her thoughts as Jaime extended a hand to her. “Would you be so kind and share this dance with me.”

When her face scrunched up in confusion he nodded to her father who was watching the two youngsters intently. She acknowledged the hint and took his hand with curtesy.

The bard’s sweet voice was swimming thru the hall and the whole keep, giving them a nice tune to slow dance to. Lysa knew how to dance and evidently, Jaime was very good too. She was pleased when her father averted his attention from them. Apparently pleased with the time his daughter spent with her suitor.

Jaime watched her with an odd expression, but she elected to ignore it unless he would tell her what his problem was.

“Just so we are clear: I don’t want to marry you either.”, he finally said. “I am a man with a lot of potentials. I-“

“You are just a boy these days.”, she interrupted her with a bit of a smile. She didn’t even know herself if it was meant to be an insult or not.

He rolled his eyes dramatically. “Gods, will I be happy to leave this place behind.”, he sighed. “But I wanted to say that you are right. We can’t choose who you love and we can’t choose who we have to marry. Sadly those things are very different most of the time.”

He bowed to her and Lysa watched him suspiciously.

“Goodbye, Lady Lysa.”

__

The next morning Jaime Lannister left Riverrun and Lysa tried not to think too hard about him.


	7. Jaime III

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> After he was back with Ser Sumner, things grew to normality again fast, so that Jaime barely wasted a second thought about Riverrun or Lysa Tully. He supposed they had found some kind of truce before he left but as long as he was not married to her, she was not his problem.

After he was back with Ser Sumner, things grew to normality again fast, so that Jaime barely wasted a second thought about Riverrun or Lysa Tully. He supposed they had found some kind of truce before he left but as long as he was not married to her, she was not his problem.

The next few years he spent time in Crakenhall or at home with Addam and it was nice and good and he didn’t even get word from his father about any betrothals. When he was fifteen he had been shortly at Casterly Rock and it was not one of the things they ever conversed about. Lord Tywin hadn’t much time for his sons. Sure, he had more time for him than for Tyrion but it wasn’t much anyway.

Not that he had much time to dwell on it as Ser Sumner took him to deliver the King’s justice in the Kingswood that year. The brotherhood was hard to find and Ser Sumner had become impatient as some of the other knights too.

Ser Arthur Dayne, who led the attack against the outlaw men, cautioned them against acting too harshly. Many of the older knights were scoffing at the young man’s patronizing, but Jaime watched him with awe.

Arthur was a perfectly capable and gallant knight, exactly the kind of person Jaime aspired to be. He was strong, fast, and worked his sword with the kind of deadly precision that made the steal seem like an extension n of himself. Contrary to Ser Sumner Jaime hang on to every word the handsome Kingsguard was addressing to the party.

The actual attack on them had been hazy and hectic, nothing like a training session amongst young boys. The reality was frightening sure, but oddly enough Jaime was strangely at peace. The danger of the situation pumped thru his veins and made his heart hammer against his ribcage.

Suddenly he spied his fosterer. Ser Sumner was gone to one knee, his sword raised over his head to vent of an attack from a large ugly man. Jaime rushed over as fast as his armored feet would take him. Since the man didn’t have another sword raised to bash down on the knight but it was one of the biggest war hammers Jaime had ever seen.

He arrived just in time to hack at the man’s legs. There was panic rushing in his ears, but he managed to hold his ground. And with every singing clang of steel on steel, Jaime grew more confident. He did inflict a wound on the man and saved Ser Sumner even thought the ugly man escaped him.

He nodded to the older knight and made sure he was able to stand and be in relative safety as long as he recovered from the attack. Jaime looked around the field of battle, diving back in, high on the rush of evading danger.

Suddenly another man was in front of him, too quick and too close. He was hideous. Eyes insane with blood lust. Jaime looked at those dark eyes, flickering with unaltered glee and Jaime knew if he could not get away anytime soon, he would be one of the bodies lying on the soft forest ground.

Before he knew it, the present Kingsguard surrounded the Smiling Knight and Jaime was pulled aside. There was pain throbbing somewhere were he had been graced by a sword, but Jaime only had eyes for the stained white cloak of Arthur Dayne as he stepped in to face the outlaw himself. The polished steel of Dawn reflecting the sunlight in various patterns.

The fight itself had been captivating.

Jaime watched open-mouthed as the Sword of the Morning split the normal iron like it was made out of glass, shards flying about them and Dawn was unmoved.

He wanted to be like Ser Arthur so bad.

“Jaime Lannister.”

As he turned Arthur Dayne was fixing him with light purple eyes. “Ser?” Jaime tried his best not to waver under the heavy gaze. He and the Frey boy were just moving to help their knight to mount his horse.

Ser Sumner took the hint and took the other knight to the side. They talked for a while that could have been an eternity in the young boy’s eyes. Jaime tapped his foot inpatient.

“I don’t want to wait until we reach some big sept, Ser.”, Jaime knew he didn’t act his age, that he was too whiny for a man almost grown and he knew that it would be more glorious to be knighted in an iconic sept, but he was so damn impatient. Besides he wasn’t sure if he did really believe in the gods anyway.

“Jaime.”

Arthur made him step into the center of the clearing next to him as the other men watched. He knelt.

“Jaime of House Lannister.”

The voice was gentle, and Jaime was quite sure the older man was amused by his euphoria but he felt so proud and giddy. Father would be proud. His son would be one of the youngest knights the realm had seen in a while and a Kingsguard was knighting him.

The weight of Dawn rested on his right shoulder with promise.

“Do you swear before the eyes of gods and men to defend those who cannot defend themselves, to protect all women and children, to obey your captains, your liege lord, and your king, to fight bravely when needed and do such other tasks as are laid upon you, however hard or humble or dangerous they may be?”

“Yes, I swear.”

The sword was brought to his left shoulder.

“Rise, Ser Jaime Lannister.”

He could have been happier.

__

Seeing Cersei was like a fresh breath of spring air. His sister was radiant, clad in rich fabrics in court fashion.

There were many people wanting to speak to him, to congratulate him. The tale of his knighting had traveled fast. It had been a tedious affair to get away from annoying maidens and opportunistic courtiers.

But he laid in bed holding Cersei again eventually. He had spent in her and they were relishing the boneless feeling it came with. With a smile he played with her golden locks, being just relieved and content with her company. He had missed her as a drunkard had longed for dark ale. Just being here, being able to touch her smooth skin.

But Cersei looked somewhere into the distance, her beautiful features twisted in overly prominent concern.

“What is wrong?”, he felt irritated and rejected by her behavior. He had strained and fought to be with her again and she would not talk to him normally? Why wouldn’t she just tell him? Didn’t she trust him? Didn’t she want him here with her?

“Please tell me?”, he hated that he bagged. He hated how desperate he was to fix whatever would spoil her mood, but Cersei was the most important person in his life. If she was happy, he was happy without issue.

Then finally she turned back to him, her stunning eyes on him again. “Father wants to betroth you to that ugly fish girl.”

He snorted, taking her face into his hands: “That is nothing new, right?” Jaime caressed her jaw, drawing soothing patterns with his thumb.

“You don’t understand!”, her green eyes burned with annoyance at his indifference. “He asked Lord Tully to the Capital to discuss a dowry. It will be real eventually and then he will separate us forever!”

She kissed his face, slow and almost lovingly: “I can’t live without you! Jaime…”

“What can I do about it?” As always he was ready to fix her problems. If he was honest Lysa Tully could be an agreeable wife if only for her own lack of interest in him. Their marriage would not be one of love anyway. He wouldn’t have to break some stupid girl’s heart who taught herself in love with him. Surely he could find a way for her to see her Littlefinger, without a sexual component. Or something. He did not care as long as she was doing her duty to him.

If she would sleep with Littlefinger, he could cast her aside.

But Cersei didn’t need to know that he would not mind being married to the Tully girl. She would only be jealous. Besides at this point, he couldn’t care less if he would marry or not.

“What do you propose as a solution?”

She always has a plan, before bringing up issues like this, he knew.

“As you know I will probably marry Rhaegar sometime soon.” He gritted his teeth but nodded. “You should become a Kingsguard to be close to me…”

“You want me in the Kingsguard?”, he asked surprised She was very sure the Dragon Prince wanted to marry her. “Didn’t father betroth you to Robert Baratheon and the Prince to Elia Martell?” “Sure.”, she rolled her eyes as if he was stupid. He hated it when she did that. “But how could he not fall in love with me? Let me make the arrangement. Ser Arthur himself already knighted you. It won’t be difficult. Trust me…”

And he did.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Jaime is a knight and Cersei is sheming as always


	8. Catelyn I

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> But then he had to ruin it for her.
> 
> Suddenly he got on his tiptoes right up to her face, lips puckered like an awkward duck. The smell of mind invading her space. And this time it was not pleasant anymore. Somewhat thankful for her height Cat was able to evade the kiss easily.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I hope you guys will like the change of POV here. Have fun!

She was so excited and happy when she walked out of her father’s study that day, nothing could have brought her mood down.

Catelyn was positively glowing with her anticipation and it felt like every step she took was cushioned like she was walking on clouds.

Edmure was loud and cranky that day. But not even his constant whining could pull her down. Lysa was brooding over some letters she was writing to Eddard Cat’s future good brother. They had struck some odd kind of friendship since Lysa had originally written him to inquire about Brandon’s character.

Catelyn had been both touched and horrified when she had learned about that. Because she thought it was sweet. Her sister was not the kind to show her attachments to people openly, so her making sure that her intended was decent to her, filled Cat’s heart with love for Lysa. But on the other side, it was bothering on highly inappropriate. A young lady corresponding with an unmarried man? Threatening the heir of a great house?

Cat was just grateful that Eddard had seemed to take her concern with earnestly and Brandon the threads and stories with humor.

Then she took a closer look and saw all the disregarded paper around Lysa, that indicated that it was not in fact Eddard she wrote to but, probably to Lyanna Stark. Or she was trying. Catelyn wasn’t privy to the full extent of their relationship; however, it had started in the same fashion as Eddard and Lysa’s, except they had never become friends. Not really. That didn’t seem to discourage the other girl to send her sister very personal latter though.

Which was weird.

To say that Lysa was confused was an understatement.

But Cat had good news and so, she seated herself opposite her sister, waiting patiently for her to look up. It was with a groan and an angry huff to the fine strand of hair in her face that Lysa tossed her last draft aside. Then she startled: “Cat, I didn’t hear you come in…” Copper brows drew together. “You seem awfully bright today. Don’t tear a muscle with all the smiling.”

Rolling her eyes, still did nothing to ban the grin from Catelyn’s lips, but she cupped her face in her hands and lean to her sister conspiratory. “Don’t you want to know why I am so _awfully bright_ today?”

Pleased she noticed the faint sparkle of laughter in Lysa’s eyes as she nodded her head. Cat had missed her sister dearly. Something about growing up had driven them apart in the worst way possible. And even though Catelyn was now a woman grown she did not know how to mend it. It made her heart ache.

“Father promised to announce my betrothal to Brandon tonight!”, she struggled to keep her voice low enough. “He expects Lord Blackwood and Lord Bracken for some kind of disagreement he needs to settle and after that, we will host a small feast.” She extended a hand to hold her sister’s across the table. “Oh, Lysa! I am so happy.”

Smiling her sister pressed their connected hands: “I am glad for you Cat.”

After that conversation, Catelyn's heart was lighter, as Lysa seemed truly happy for her and her own excitement over her engagement only grew with each passing hour. Soon, _soon_ she would be allowed to marry handsome and gallant Brandon and become the Lady of his Keep.

She noticed that Petyr kept a distance. It had been like this for quite a while now, but she was not sure how to fix that one either. She was aware of the fact that he had _affections_ for her. (She was not ready to call it love. He was a boy of thirteen and she was a woman now.)

It had been adorable at first, but since he was becoming bolder and bolder with his advances she had no idea how to make it clear to him that she loved him but in the same way she loved her Edmure.

So, when she was sorting thru her wardrobe this midday, looking for what she would wear to this still special occasion and he came in with a polite knock and gentle eyes, she was ready to mend their friendship.

“My Lady, I hope I am not intruding.”, his smile was genuine. “But I had hoped to extend my best wishes to you again before the feast tonight and I hoped to ask you to bequeath me with your first dance tonight.”

She sat on her bed and smiled up at him. “I would be glad to dance with you. You are my treasured friend after all.”

He bowed his head and was incredibly pleased with himself. Cat was just happy to extent that branch of friendship to him, maybe they could stay close. When he turned to leave her be, she called him back on a whim.

“Petyr! What do you think? Which dress should I wear later tonight?”

She held a sky-blue dress to her body. It had nice long sleeves, and the skirt swirled nicely when she danced. It had nice snow-white lace trimmings and little fish sown into the bodice. When he nodded she showed him the next one.

A deep maroon dress with dark blue detailing, flowing over bodice and skirt, like small rivers, the sleeves were short and puffy, and she had a matching pair of gloves for it.

Petyr stepped closer to her and smiled up to her. She could smell the mint on his breath. She smiled back, happy to have reached a seeming truce. “You should wear the blue one.” His cool fingers brushed her hair out of her face. “It brings out the color of your beautiful eyes.”

And as far as Catelyn had been concerned that could have been the end of that problem. But it was only years later that she would come to understand how astronomical she had underestimated both the situation and Petyr’s obsession.

__

Lord Blackwood and Bracken had both brought some of their man and family members with them. It was quite lovely, the feast. The music was soft and melodic in the background as the ate. When they finished, the tune picked up into a splendid perky polka.

“My Lady.”, Petyr bowed to her, and as promised Cat was having her first dance with him. It had been a wee bit awkward since the boy was so short and she was quite tall for a girl, but it was adequate nonetheless.

If Cat hadn’t been in such high spirits, she would have noticed Lysa’s jealous eyes following every swirl she made in Petyr’s arms. But alas she did not. Instead, she accepted the Lord Blackwood’s heir’s gratulations and his invite to dance too. Tytos Blackwood was younger than her, but not bad at what he was doing.

Lysa on the other hand remained seated and conversed with Edmure at least occasionally. Her wine cup stayed dry though.

After the young Lord, Petyr took her hand again and she followed him onto the dancefloor a second time. They both laughed at mistakes they made from the swift nature of their steps and Petyr managed to pull off an elaborate dance sequence regardless.

Next, it was Lord Bracken and his eldest daughter who gifted their gratulation’s and it was the Lord who danced with her. He was polite and most gracious with her telling her about his plans to name a daughter after her if the gods would gift him another.

And then she danced another time with Petyr.

When she finally fell back into her chair between her siblings, she was breathing hard and her whole face was flushed hot but she was still smiling. Her face was almost hurting but she was just so, so high of her anticipation of finally, finally being able to meet and marry Brandon Stark.

“Do you guys have fun?”, she grabbed her own goblet and drowned sweet, sweet wine. How great was it to be alive and having the privileges her upbringing? She could not hear their answer because she rushed to dance with her uncle Brynden and then with Petyr again.

“It is nice to spend time with you, Petyr.”, she laughed. “I relish every moment I am allowed to share with you, dear Cat.” Giggling she hit his arm softly. “Don’t be so silly!”

Before he could respond. “Cat, can I dance with you? Lysa doesn’t want to do anything. Like she is really brooding and Father urged me to practice my dancing. So, shall we?”

And Petyr was forgotten for her real little brother.

Edmure was still insecure with the order of the more complicated dances. Still, she had fun and she was not tired at all. So, she took Petyr’s hand again and let him swirl her around a fifth time. And right afterward the sixth time.

But then he had to ruin it for her.

Suddenly he got on his tiptoes right up to her face, lips puckered like an awkward duck. The smell of mind invading her space. And this time it was not pleasant anymore. Somewhat thankful for her height Cat was able to evade the kiss easily. Laughing she asked Petyr what that had been about. He was so gallant most of the time. What had changed?

“You don’t understand! I love you! I have always loved you!”, his voice was urgent and almost pleading, but quiet enough to keep the conversation between the two of them. Cat just shook her head, still amused.

“You don’t know what you are talking about!”, she meant what she was saying. Petyr was young and the only girls he knew were her and her sister. How could he claim to be in love?

“Cat, I loved you since the second I first saw you. I will love you until the day I die!”

“Petyr, please. You don’t know what love is. And before you ask neither do I or Lysa or Edmure. Not the romantic kind anyway…” She was still giggling when she escorted him back to his bench. “I believe that you care for me as we have been friends for quite some time but don’t lie to yourself like this.”

She turned and did not see the shattered expression on his face.

Love-

What a silly little thought.


	9. Lysa V

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Lysa wanted so many things from Petyr...

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> WARNING FOR THIS CHAPTER:  
> Lysa has sex with Petyr while he is a) very drunk and b) thinks she is Cat. I as author don't condone this, as this is still r*pe. I know that Lysa romanticizes this night later in canon, but that does not make it right. (And no matter how I do the math they are both so young here...)
> 
> The whole scene is not graphic but if that does not sit right with you I'd advise you to skip the part, as it is marked as well. Stay save.
> 
> As for the length today I have to apologize but I have a cold and stayed the day in bed, as well as I worked on other prjects.

Lysa watched Cat laugh at Petyr and white-hot anger almost choked her out. Her sister’s laughter was a wonderful sound but given her love’s humiliation, Lysa did not find any joy in it.

The way she felt made her even angrier. She loved Petyr but she loved Cat too. So, why was she so hopelessly jealous even when she knew, knew that Cat didn’t love him like wanted her too. That her sister was only in such a good and generous mood because she wanted to marry Brandon Stark. So, why couldn't she see past something that obviously came from Petyr’s side, because she was so jealous?

Did she hate Cat? She wanted to say no. That she loved her sister, but sometimes she didn’t even know anymore.

She looked down at her cup filled with the sweetest summer wine and drowned it in her desperation. The heat of the alcohol melted some of the cold bitterness away, but not enough to make it better.

As soon as Petyr had taken a seat amongst the benches in the hall and filled his cup with heavy dark ale, Lysa stood, ready to comfort him. But it was Edmure who stopped her.

“Come on, Sister. I want you to dance with me and now that Littlefinger isn’t available anymore-“

“I told you not to call him that.”

“Fine, but please.”

Edmure gazed at her with round pleading eyes. She rolled her eyes. He was still too adorable for his own good…

Her brother was a horrible dancer. He was young sure, but as heir, he should have done better attending his lessons. What should she do with an incompetent brother like that who stepped on her toes and laughed it off, despite her bad mood?

When she was finally free and her feet were sore, she searched for Petyr immediately just to find him headfirst on the table, drunk out of his mind. When did he even manage to drink so much? He never drank often, as he was usually more careful to keep a clear mind. Seeing him in such a pitiful state, was like a stab to the heart.

She rushed to his side, but when she laid a soothing hand to his shoulder it was Cat’s name once again that was on his lips.

Why was everything always about Catelyn?

Why couldn’t he love her?

What could she do to change his heart’s desire?

As she withdrew herself disappointed and full of sorrow, her Uncle Brynden was the one who pated her head in silent sympathy. “Go back to dancing, lass. I will take our wannabe romantic up to his room to sleep off his intoxication.” As he swooped up Petyr like a ragdoll, he pressed a firm kiss to her brow. Don’t worry, Sweet Lysa.”

“Uncle-“, but Brynden didn’t wait for her objection, because why would he? In a way, he was right of course. Back in his room, Petyr couldn’t do anything to embarrass her sister further, but it made Lysa sad. She had wanted to at least have a little of his time. Just this once.

Suddenly a plan formed in her head. As she sat and watched Cat dance with Edmure another time, she waited for the appropriate time to retire too. Maybe another cup of wine kept her company.

When she saw that her uncle returned, she slipped out after announcing her leave and sneaked into Petyr’s room instead of her own. The boy in question was laying in his bed still mumbling to himself.

The sight was endearing. She loved him, she realized once again. Why wasn’t she just allowed to marry the man she loved?

“Petyr?”, she called quietly as she stalked closer to the bed and her heart leaped in joy when he reached out for her. He was clumsy with the ale in his veins but he pulled her close. “My Lady, you came.”

“Of course-“, she didn’t make it further as Petyr kissed her aggressively and rough. He gasp in surprise when she reciprocated eagerly. She for her part shivered with the thrill that went to her body as heat pooled at the bottom of her stomach, when his hot tongue licked into his mouth. She moaned against him, as he pulled her fine hair. “Cat…”

Her body froze but Petyr didn’t notice he made quick work of kissing down her neck as far as her bodice would allow him to, overpowering her dread with promising pleasure.

Was she so selfish to take what he was only willing to give Cat?

(*)

Maybe she should go a bit further, a little bit more before she stopped… Maybe she could pretend a while longer. Maybe he would not remember.

(Gods, she was awful.)

She separated from his greedy lips only to unfasten her dress as fast as possible, kicking off her shoes and stepping out of the pooling fabric to go back to him only in her sheer smallclothes.

For the shortest moment, she doubted. What would her father say? Would Uncle Brynden be disappointed? Would Petyr hate her when he realized she was not his Cat?

And she even had to think about Jaime Lannister…. He would not marry her if she was not a maiden anymore. But did she want to marry him or was this just a good enough excuse not to?

But alas her mind would rather focus on her aching cunt and the need she had for Petyr.

Their mouths met again, wet and sloppy, Lysa guided his hands to his breasts, gasping at the reaction of her body. She searched for his prick and found it hard. Lysa knew only vaguely how coupling was to work. But she was too far gone to stop now without being disappointed.

There was wetness leaking between her legs as she shook with anticipation, with need.

“I love you.” she whimpered as he entered her, taking her maidenhead.

But he only gasped Cat’s name again and again and again….

Was this her punishment?


	10. Jaime IV

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> When he packed to see his father in the Westerlands all those things floated around the keep:
> 
> Lady Lyanna was an ungrateful brat, for Robert Baratheon was such a handsome man and what nobleman didn’t have a bastard or two.
> 
> Lady Cersei should marry the Prince for at least she was a true lady of Westeros and not a dirty dornish woman. 
> 
> Lady Lyanna had played herself for Stannis Baratheon was so cold and stoic.
> 
> Cersei was lucky to get to bed Robert if they were to marry…
> 
> The Princess would be a better Queen for she was gracious and more loved then Lady Cersei who was heard to abuse her servants…
> 
> What in the seven hells had happened to the essossie girl….?

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Hi guys,   
> I know I am a bit late this week. I hope you can forgive me lol  
> I sure hope you do enjoy this chapter than

It had been all nice and well with him those past few weeks. He was with Cersei after all nothing much mattered. Besides he was a knight now, free to roam the Kingdom as a man grown. He would not let a marriage to Lysa Tully be in the way of his happiness.

He was a lion after all and lions did not bow to fish how powerful they may or not maybe. The Tullys hadn’t even been Kings in the olden times. He, he had the blood of King’s flowing thru his veins.

His father was the most powerful and richest Lord of the Kingdoms, only topped by the Crown in Power, but not in gold.

But his refusal to marry at all or to marry Lysa Tully, in this case, did not stop his father from summoning him to the rock, to discuss his future wife.

That was at least the reason he had given Jaime in his letter.

Jaime read the whole letter with disgust and annoyance. But maybe his annoyance didn’t only steam from his own marital prospects, but his sister’s too. Cersei had been so sure about the fact that she would become Queen, that he had let her pull the strings to become a Kingsguard or well, be mentioned to the King as an option.

They could not be entirely certain about the King’s plans as he was skittish and irrational since he had let go of Lord Tywin as his Hand, paranoid even, but they knew by now that Cersei would not be Queen.

Lord Baratheon had brought a Valyrian girl to the Capital, a beautiful thing with purple eyes and white hair… And for a while, it was the consensus at the salons that the Prince was to marry the mysterious essossie beauty until she vanished and the King had ordered Princess Elia to the court.

(Before the Princess was asked to come, Cersei had assured him that she would be the next girl to be betrothed to the Prince)

But instead, Rhaegar was ordered to entertain Elia during her stay.

A decision that had baffled everyone. The King’s right of hatred of the dornish and their racial features was known… So, why would he consider marrying his heir off to one of them, even a dornish woman as beautiful and loved as Elia Martell?

(There was of course the fact that house Martell had a drop or two of Targaryen blood from former marriages, only rivaled by house Valeryion and Baratheon, houses without daughters to give away.)

Since Cersei was ignored for an engagement not only once but twice now (or so it seemed), her mood was unbearable and somehow she was blaming Jaime. Because of course, she was. But he would not fall victim to her hysterics when she had potentially ruined both their lives with her delusions.

(Sometimes he wondered how much she knew about the Valyrian girl’s disappearance…)

He had been blind to it too since to him she was the most perfect woman in all the world and Rhaegar that bastard would have been so, so lucky to have her, but it made sense for a family so hellbent on blood purity to find a bride with the appropriate connections, something Cersei did not have.

There had been rumors that the Stark girl had insisted on breaking her betrothal to Robert Baratheon since he had fathered a bastard already and seem to have no intention to stop his whoring anytime soon. Jaime had met him a time or another but he was a tiresome person to be around. (But now it was said she should marry the younger Baratheon boy, who was more boring in his opinion)

He had heard the rumors that the King was pushing for a betrothal between Cersei and Robert to get her out of the way for Prince Rhaegar to marry Elia Martell.

When he packed to see his father in the Westerlands all those things floated around the keep.

_Lady Lyanna was an ungrateful brat, for Robert Baratheon was such a handsome man and what nobleman didn’t have a bastard or two._

_Lady Cersei should marry the Prince for at least she was a true lady of Westeros and not a dirty dornish woman._

_Lady Lyanna had played herself for Stannis Baratheon was so cold and stoic._

_Cersei was lucky to get to bed Robert if they were to marry…_

_The Princess would be a better Queen for she was gracious and more loved then Lady Cersei who was heard to abuse her servants…_

_What in the seven hells had happened to the essossie girl….?_

But he had no time to dwell on it. Nothing had been decided yet and nothing had been decided for him either. He wished Cersei would be in a better mood so she could see him off properly since they did not know when he would see her again.

“Ser Jaime?”

He turned to see Princess Elia’s beautiful face. She smiled, her dark eyes cringing prettily. He bowed deeply to her. His father might not respect her family but she had been noting than polite and friendly to him in their shared time here. And she was a princess in her own right all prejudice aside. And if the rumors were true, he didn’t want to make an enemy out of his future Queen.

“Your Highness, I was not aware you would be on and about so early in the morning…”

“I am up early often, as sleep comes not too easy for me. But I am seeing you are leaving. I wish you a safe journey, Ser.”

She didn’t seem to want to stick around. She was just nice, polite, wishing him well as she had seen him leave. The few dornish noblewomen following her watching him. Some with suspicion probably judging his family, some with color in their cheeks as he had seen many other girls before.

After waving to him, she made her way to the gardens again, focusing her attention on her friends again. Jaime thought about the fact that once upon a time the former Princess of Dorne wanted him to marry her. Elia Martell was too pure for his wretched soul.

But to his dismay, his beloved sister did not come to see him off.

__

Coming back home had one perk and that was seeing Tyrion again.

Jaime had missed his brother more than he had realized, being preoccupied with his sister’s tantrums. But when he saw his little brother waiting alongside his stoic father, he could not banish the brilliant grin he gifted him.

But it was swiftly brushed off his face when he saw the concealed anger in his father’s face. Those green golden eyes glimmering dangerously. Whatever it was… Jaime would not like it.

And as to confirm his suspicion Tywin didn’t leave him any room to recover from his journey. “Follow me into my study, _Ser Jaime_.” The last words hit him like a whip. He shot Tyrion a look but there was nothing his younger brother could do to help him, he knew.

The door barely slammed shut before his father turned to yell at him. “What did you do?” Unfortunately, Jaime had no idea what he had done. There was the treacherous spike of anxiety that came with this kind of situation. Did Father find out about him and Cersei? But it was nothing he would admit out loud. Besides he had thought Father would praise him for his anointment as knight…

“I received a letter from the King, well, his Hand.”, the words were spat out. The office as Hand of the King was a touchy subject in this household. His father once occupied the position successfully, but the more the King’s paranoia grew, the more it damaged their friendship until Tywin was deprived of the office.

Jaime could not even remember what poor unfortunate soul was dressing that office right now. “He asked two things of me, or rather informed me about something and ordered me to do the other. One, he appoints you into the Kingsguard.” Oh shit.

“Pray say, son. How would Aerys come to that outlandish idea?”

So, Cersei’s ploy had been successful in the worst way possible. He should have known better probably. Jaime tried his best to act innocent.

“How would I know?”, he said defensively, “I didn’t get the impression anything he is doing right now has any rhyme or reason…”

Tywin shoved a thick book of his desk. “He also ordered me to betroth your sister…”

Could it be that Cersei was successful after all? It would be a surprise after all, but who was he to deny her the satisfaction of marrying her prince. As boring as he was.

“He ordered me to marry your sister to Robert Baratheon after the Stark girl left him. He betrothed his son to the dornish woman and doesn’t want any old suitors at court. At least not as long they are not otherwise occupied.”

Oh.

“So, I will lose your stupid-!”, he stopped, took a breath, massaged his temples, and tried again. “Not only will I lose my heir, but also the prospects of a more…”, Tywin clicked his tongue. “Favorable Alliance…

I left you two alone for only a few months and somehow you managed to already disappoint me so greatly… What shall I do with my useless children? I hope you enjoy your time here Jaime. It might as well be your last time you will see these halls. As we will leave for a royal wedding in a bit…”

“What about-“

Cold eyes shut his mouth.

“What? My legacy? As the heir to Casterly Rock is now a deformed monster.”, Jaime winced and hoped that Tyrion was not listening in… “Your engagement to the Tully girl will be off now. You know how that lets us stand here? The Tully’s are allied with the Starks, the Starks with the Baratheons. Hoster Tully is an old but powerful lord with fruitful lands while the only thing Robert Baratheon seems to be capable of is whoring, drinking, and fighting, and being in love with a girl that doesn’t want him of course.

Do you think Hoster Tully would except the Imp as a prospect for his daughter? Do you think anyone would? Do you want that our home falls to Kaevan’s children? Do you want that, our house becomes the laughingstock of the realm?”

Jaime had no idea how to answer any of those questions without …

His father sighed. “Just leave!” And Jaime did. As fast as he could without running. The last thing he needed was his father thinking him weak. The whole thing still tasted bitter to him. Not only would he have to travel right back to the capital as a raven had been faster than him, but he had to deal with Cersei in an even darker mood as they had to attend Rhaegar’s wedding…

When he stepped outside, he met Tyrion’s gaze. The boy was pressing his lips into a thin line. He had heard he knew but nothing he could say would make anything better, for anyone…

No one in this family was bound to be happy it seemed.

“Congratulations on becoming a knight, brother…”

The smile that he placed on his lips was tight and felt artificial. “Thank you!”, he gestured Tyrion to follow him into another part of the Keep any other part. If Father would catch them just chatting in front of his door, they both would get more trouble.

“I hope you did not completely succumb to boredom, as we all were away…”

Tyrion shrugged. “I missed you, but it was nice and quiet without Cersei. Our Lord Father does leave me alone for the most part. The Maester ordered a few more books since I read to the interesting parts of the library-“ Another insecure shrug. “I was mostly reading…”

Could his situation become any worse?


	11. Lysa VI

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Cat was lighting up the moment her Intended to come into view. Brandon Stark was attractive. Broad and wild. With long and soft-looking hair and a mysterious twinkle in grey eyes. Eddard looked both very similar to his brother and completely different at the same time.
> 
> He was tall but shorter than the other men, his features tight and insecure, and as to highlight that his hair was pulled out of his face strictly and tidy. Lysa smiled at them. It was weird to see her new friend in person, as she was both glad to have someone she knew here now and anxious she might ruin it somehow.
> 
> Petyr on the other hand was standing a bit to the side, clearly distancing himself from the Tullys. His clothes were not nearly as exquisite as theirs. That was another consequence of all those visits from other great houses. It became more and more apparent that Petyr was not one of them, no matter how much they loved him or treated him like family. He was the son of an insignificant little Lord, only here because their fathers were friends once.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I wanted to make this chapter Brandon vs Petyr already, but I think I'll write that from Cat's pespective.

Cat had been more excited than the night of her betrothal announcement. Brandon was on his way to visit her and their father and she had not stopped talking about him since the announcement had reached them. 

If Lysa had thought that Petyr had been in a bad mood before she didn’t know what to do with him now. He avoided all Tully children there days and kept to sulking. Lysa was sad to see it, especially since he didn’t seem to remember taking her maidenhead… Had she been wrong to come to his bed when he was that drunk? The prospect of having Brandon Stark in the keep for a prolonged amount of time before the wedding didn’t seem to sit well with Petyr either way.

It made the situation very real for Lysa and Edmure too. Their beloved older sister would leave, possibly forever since Northerners are not known to wander south that often.

At this particular afternoon, Edmure sneaked into her study as Lysa was just reading a letter she had received from Eddard.

_Dear Lysa,_

_I make it short.  
We will set out for Riverrun in an hour.  
Brandon is nervous I can tell._

_I hope you are all well._

_Your friend  
Eddard Stark_

“Lysa?”, her baby brother was standing before her, playing with the hem of his jerkin. His round blue eyes were glued to the ground. She put away the sheet of paper. Not that it made any sense to write an answer to it.

Usually, it was Cat who comforted the little one. Lysa was not particularly good at it. Ever since their mother died, it was Cat who healed the family and the household together. It was Cat who cared for Edmure and her to a certain extent.

But now that the boy’s worry was about Cat’s happiness, he had not many places to turn. So, Lysa opened her arms for him to slip in and he readily did so. For a moment or two, she just held on to his little form.

Lysa circled little patterns over Edmure’s back. As the boy’s grip on her grew just a bit tighter. Gasping he retracted from her: “I know that Cat has to marry Brandon and leave to be his Lady and I know that you have to do that eventually too. But-“

She smiled sadly. The future was uncertain for all of them. Would she really marry Jaime Lannister or were the rumors about his spot in the Kingsguard true? What would become of her? And would she see her family often?

Still, she wiped away Edmure’s auburn locks to press a soft kiss to his forehead.

“It’ll be okay. It has to be.”

She just wasn’t sure if she believed it herself.

__

They were standing by the main gate, awaiting the arrival of the Stark party. She and Cat were wearing matching dresses. Her was a reddish shade of maroon with a tight bodice and dark blue silk ropes lacing the skirt together and giving it a nice accent. Cat was wearing the same just in a reverse color scheme. Edmure looked uncomfortable in the high collared west he wore, embroidered with leaping troads.

Her father and uncle were standing next to him and Lysa was remembered of Jaime Lannister quite unpleasantly.

The northern party consisted of Lord Rickard Stark his heir Brandon and the younger son Eddard. There was no trace of Lyanna Stark or Benjen Stark anywhere.

Cat was lighting up the moment her Intended to come into view. Brandon Stark was attractive. Broad and wild. With long and soft-looking hair and a mysterious twinkle in grey eyes. Eddard looked both very similar to his brother and completely different at the same time.

He was tall but shorter than the other men, his features tight and insecure, and as to highlight that his hair was pulled out of his face strictly and tidy. Lysa smiled at them. It was weird to see her new friend in person, as she was both glad to have someone she knew here now and anxious she might ruin it somehow.

Petyr on the other hand was standing a bit to the side, clearly distancing himself from the Tullys. His clothes were not nearly as exquisite as theirs. That was another consequence of all those visits from other great houses. It became more and more apparent that Petyr was not one of them, no matter how much they loved him or treated him like family. He was the son of an insignificant little Lord, only here because their fathers were friends once.

Uncle Brynden seemed to notice the storm brooding in the boy too, but they had no time to confront that problem now. Not without risking a scene anyway.

With a sick sense of jealousy, Lysa watched Cat curtsy sweetly as Brandon smiled at her. How could her sister look so love-struck already? She did not know the man… Was she envious of her sister’s prospect of a happy marriage or was she concerned that Brandon Stark was not what he seemed? Was it protectiveness or not? Maybe it was both…? Maybe she had spent so much time both loving and resenting her sister that she did not know her own feelings anymore…

Maybe she just wanted Cat to be happy in Winterfell so she was not so guilty for envying her for Petyr’s affection and she would have Petyr for her own of course.

Brandon bowed to her sister, cast his eyes down, and pressed a coy kiss to her bare hand. Cat particularly melted under his attention, blushing prettily and grinning. The sight was endearing. But Lysa’s own smile faltered as he saw the hatred Petyr extended to the Northerner.

_He still loves her not me…_

_He still loves her._

_I gave him my everything and he still loves her..._

_What else could she do to make him see?_

__

There was a feast because of course there was. Her uncle even found a handsome wandering bard that hand brought a lute and sweet ballads of love for the young betrothed. It was exciting.

Lysa danced with her brother. Edmure was still insecure about his dancing but she had to admit he had made progress over the last few weeks. He would be good enough to impress the girls his age by the time the wedding rolled around. Lysa giggled at his red face as she told him so. Her sister was twirled over the dance floor by Brandon. The pair were laughing and chatting, seemingly getting along splendidly.

When she looked up to the high table, she saw Lord Rickard conversing with her Uncle. The two men getting along rather well as the Lord of Winterfell with her father. There was something about the hardship of battle, that made them instant friends. Speaking of her father, Lord Hoster watched Cat and Brandon with a tight smile that managed to both be happy and nostalgic.

Was he thinking about Mother?

Her heart ached for the woman she had so little solid memory of. One day in her youth Lysa had woken up and realized she barely remembered her face. All she had left these days were vague feelings of affection and the portraits her father had commissioned long ago.

“I am glad they are getting along…”

Edmure squeezed her hand where he was holding her. His face was more hopeful than a few days ago. He exhaled as if had to heald his breath in anxiety. “I was afraid they might not like each other or than he would not care for our Cat, despite what Eddard wrote to you. But he seems to be fine and Cat still seemed to swoon over him. Maybe she will be alright…”

Lysa caressed his cheek tenderly. Edmure had virtually no memory of their mother. All his childhood he had only Cat. Her sister might bare little Starks but in truth, Edmure had been her first child. “We all will be alright.” She hoped it was true.

“Yes.”, he swirled her. “Can you promise me to not leave anytime soon?” The question was half-joked, but the sadness underneath it broke her still soft heart. “As long as Father would allow it. Jaime Lannister is rumored to be appointed to the Kingsguard soon, so… If it’s true Father has to find a new man for me first.” She grinned at him. “Who knows maybe you will fall in love with a fair princess soon and I am the one of us three who will die an old maiden.”

Her baby brother’s face contoured in disgust and she sniggered at it rather unladylike. “Lysa! Girls are gross.” He interjected and she kissed his forehead. He was still so adorable and she was a lair.

Suddenly someone tipped on Edmure’s shoulder and when they both turned Brandon was smirking at them. “Excuse me Edmure.” Bhind him Cat rolled her eyes playfully and Ned stood next to her red and as if he didn’t want to be involved in whatever his brother was doing.

“My little brother here.”, he gestured to Ned, who was protesting quietly, as Cat tried to appease him half-heartedly. “He wants to ask Lysa to dance, but he is to shy to ask for himself, so if you two would be so kind.”

Edmure moved away swiftly, happy for the excuse to go back to his desert. Lysa smiled up at her friend. “Sure.” The fact that he was so shy was pretty adorable. She took his hand anyway. “It is nice to finally see you in person.” He smiled now too, a bit reserved though. “Yes, it is nice to have a face to your name.” And like this, they fell into easy chatter. There were a lot of safe topics they could talk about. Their siblings were one of those.

“I hope you can get a minute or two to talk to him, so you can set your worries away.”

“Well, isn’t it a good sign that he spends so much time with Cat? Maybe they will have a good marriage.” She had to smile again at his relived face. “But yes, I should get familiarized with my future good brother.”

“I like Catelyn.”, he said than carefully. “She is polite and gracious and I am happy that my brother will marry someone as level as her. Maybe she can cancel out his recklessness.”

“I think I have to disappoint you. Cat can be rather hot-headed to if it is about people she loved.”

“I stand corrected then. Maybe they will be an intense couple of sorts…”

Suddenly someone grabbed Ned’s shoulder. It was revealed to be Petyr glaring daggers at the Stark. Lysa’s stomach swooped involuntarily. Was he jealous? He looked the part.

“If you excuse me…” He didn’t wait for an answer and pulled her to him rather roughly. Ned, bless his gentle nature, did not cause a scene and she thought as she watched him walk back, that he was too forgiving probably.

Petyr did still look mad, as he danced with her, still clutching at her as if she might run away if he did not. “What was that all about?” Her frown was deep. But his hot gaze left her shivering. “Isn’t it enough that Cat will be taken away by that oaf of a fiancé-“

“You should not talk like this-“

“Will you be the next one to whore yourself out to a dirty Stark?”

Now it was Lysa’s turn to be angry. What did he even know? It was clear that this was not about her, this was about Cat once again. But he could not insult Lord Tully and Stark by interfering with Brandon so, he chooses to act like he cared if Lysa took a liking to Ned or not.

Not only was this not remotely true, (She like Ned but not like that) but also highly ironic as Petyr was the man she was hopelessly in love with. But she would not give him the satisfaction to beg for forgiveness or sort when all she did was being polite to her sister's future good family.

“Maybe.”, she spat more venomous than she had ever talked to him. “Maybe you should grow a pair and confess to Cat properly instead of as to take me for granted all the time.”

She knew she was unfair and vulgar, but she had risked her future by sleeping with him. (A stupid mistake on her part, sure.) but he still treated her like a condolence price, with Cat as the main win.

In retrospect, she might have held her tongue, if she had known what chain of events her little outburst triggered. But it was always easier to wish things to be different after the fact.

For now, she left him standing, before the song ended.


	12. Catelyn II

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Only when Petyr called out to them did she remember that he was there.
> 
> “Stark! I challenge you to a duel. For the hand of the sweet Lady Catelyn.”, he looked even younger next to Brandon. He just turned fifteen and so small for his age. Cat frowned at her childhood friend. “Petyr, you can’t be serious! I don’t want to marry you.”
> 
> “You don’t mean that…”, he insisted. “Cat. I have loved you most of my life.”

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Hey guys, I'm sorry I was inactive for so long. A lot of thinks happened, but I hope you all are doing well.

“Petyr!”, she exclaimed. Cat had no idea how this had happened. One minute she was taking a walk with her fiancé and the next minute her friend blocked their path with the most vicious sneer she had ever seen.

In her eyes, Petyr had always been a sweet boy with a harmless crush on her. He was so young. The way he was holding himself with pure hatred and desperation broke her heart.

Cat’s gaze snapped to Brandon. Her fiancée’s expression was unreadable. Dark grey eyes creased with confusion? Anger? She held onto his broad chest as he was taking a step in Petyr’s direction. “Brandon…”, her voice was pleading, but she was not even sure what she was asking for.

His attention snapped back to her easily enough. Brandon took her hands into his big and rough ones. Cat blushed prettily at his undivided interest. She would lie if she said her attraction to him didn’t grow with every moment they spent together. He was rigidly handsome and wild, she knew. But with Catelyn, he was ever so gently. It made her heart leap.

Only when Petyr called out to them did she remember that he was there.

“Stark! I challenge you to a duel. For the hand of the sweet Lady Catelyn.”, he looked even younger next to Brandon. He just turned fifteen and so small for his age. Cat frowned at her childhood friend. “Petyr, you can’t be serious! I don’t _want_ to marry you.”

“You don’t mean that…”, he insisted. “Cat. I have loved you most of my life.”

Her heart broke. She had hoped he would grow out of his childish crush on her. He was almost four years younger than her, not even able to grow facial hair yet. How could she ever love him as he wanted her to?

Brandon had watched Petyr until now, his lips pursed. “You heard the Lady.”, the Northerner simply replied and shoved past the boy. A moment ago he had been in deep conversation with her. His long hair swayed in the wind and Cat just got reminded how much she already adored him. Her life with him would be so perfect. She would be his dutiful Lady Wife and bare his children with dark hair and silver eyes and they would love each other-

“I am serious!” Petyr walked back in front of the man and jabbed his finger at him. Brandon for his part seemed to get more impatient as the interaction went on. “I love Cat more than you ever could and I will prove that I am worthy of her.”

Cat grew angry too, angry that Petyr was acting like he was doing that for her; a selfish act of romance for the maiden he loved, but the way he talked as if she was not there, as if she was a prize to win, boiled her blood. He did not care for what she wanted. That she didn’t want him. If he truly loved her wouldn’t he want her to be happy first and foremost?

“Petyr!”, she tried again, swallowing her own feelings. He was just a silly boy after all. “Please let this go. You don’t stand a chance and I don’t want you to get hurt for my sake.” Then she turned back to Brandon, hoping the situation was over. “Let’s go back inside.” He gifted her a tight but charming smile and she could not help but return it with vigor.

But the small piece of serenity did not last as Petyr was hot on their heels. When they entered the great hall, he had passed them, announcing: “I challenge Brandon Stark to a duel for Lady Catelyn’s hand in marriage.”

Edmure and Lysa stood first, worried and confused. Brandon for his part sighed deeply irritated. “Fine…”, he finally said. “I hope you know what you got yourself into, Littlefinger.”

Cat watched in horror as her fiancé crossed the now silent hall to ask her brother to Squire for him. Her baby brother’s face lit up with excitement. He looked up to Brandon, Cat knew. The man and the boys left the room quicker than Cat could understand. Suddenly Lysa was by her side, holding her painfully. Panic was shining in her bright blue eyes.

“Cat! You have to stop them! Petyr has no chance against a man six years older and double his height. Your Northman will kill him! Cat, you have to do something…!”

The desperation and unparalleled fear in her sister’s voice brought Catelyn back to the seriousness of their situation. Petyr was ready to risk his life for the silly dream of marrying her and straining the alliance between the Riverlands and the North in the process.

But despite all the anger, she felt for him ruining this feast, she was not ready to let him die for this. For all his fault, Petyr was still an important part of her girlhood, if nothing more. With a shuttering breath, she got ahold of her hysteric sister. Lysa had a crush on Petyr, she knew. Cat needed to be once again the older sister she all needed.

“I will stop them.”, she declared more confident than she felt.

Or at least I have to save Petyr’s life if nothing more.

Cat shot a pleading look to her uncle, but the Blackfish just shook his head sadly. “There is nothing much I can do now, lass. Petyr challenged the man and know the duel must take place for both their honor…”

She didn’t want to hear any of that. Cat bundled up her skirts the moment she was outside, not caring that much that her ankles were showing.

The sight she found when she turned to the yard, stopped her heart. Brandon wore full armor. He stood tall and mighty with his longsword, a powerful future lord. The silver dire wolf on his breastplate seemed to mock Petyr who was only wearing an ill-fitting helm, ringmail, and a wrongly fastened breastplate.

“What are you waiting for, Stark?”, he trembled, but he didn’t seem to change his mind. Brandon sighed as if he was talking to an insolent child and turned back to Edmure. Cat was not close enough to hear what they were talking about, but when she passed most of the crowd Edmure helped him take off most of his armor.

“Cat…”, Petyr smiled at her like a love drunken foul. “I beg for your favor! I will win this fight in your honor.” Cat watched him and her anger vanished only leaving pity… She ached and felt sorry for him, for the way he had romanticized her, but she could not be what he wanted.

She moved to Brandon instead. Her skin tingled where he was brushing her hair out of her face, gentle and perfect. “It won’t take long, Cat.”, he promised. She nodded. “But please don’t kill him.” She took her handkerchief, the same favor Petyr, and asked for, and tied it to the hilt. “I know he insults us both and you have no obligation to him, but he was my friend for all those years. He is infatuated with me… Like boys are. It will pass.”

Her Brandon smiled at Cat, confidence shining in his dark eyes. “I will be gentle for you.” He kissed her hair, and she was sure he meant it.

Still, for all of Brandon’s restrained, the fight was still pitiful. Petyr tried his best, seemingly believing that his love for her was enough to withstand even such a strong opponent. Did he fashion himself a hero of song and stories?

But reality did not work like that. Brandon placed hit after hit. Way softer and nonlethal as they all knew he was capable of. But the number of wounds started to worry about her. Petyr did not yield, not after several opportunities Brandon gave him graciously.

In the end, it was one sickening cut from his chest up to his neck. He was still breathing but there was blood everywhere and Cat was sure her old friend would not survive the night. She stood there and watch the crimson stain the dirt dark. She could not move.

It was Lysa who was at his side imminently, cradling his beaten face and crying tears for him.

“What have you done, Cat?”, she accused

But Cat knew it was not her fault or Brandon’s. Only Petyr had to answer for his mistakes. She was not sure if she could ever look Petyr in the eye again. He had ruined everything…


	13. Lysa VII

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> The ugly beast named jealously slithered thru her veins. No! It was not fair that she had everything! A prestigious match who was gentle with her, a man she seemed to adore at that and to top it off Petyr’s love.
> 
> Lysa had nothing! The last man who her father wanted to ship her off to had been Jaime Lannister. But rumors that the King wanted him for the Kingsguard. If that turned out to have merit she would start back at square one.
> 
> And even if she ended up to score the alliance with the Lannister’s for her family. Jaime Lannister was an asshole. She doubted that he would ever respect her let alone love her (not that she could see herself love him anyway…) and she longed for Petyr’s affection when he never looked at her twice.
> 
> It was not fair and it was all Cat’s fault.
> 
> It had to be.
> 
> It had to be…?

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Hey guys, I hope you are alright and you had time to relax this weekend :)

Lysa sat at his bedside for god’s knew how long now. The dirt of the yard caked the seams of her beautiful dress, ruining the fine garment beyond repair, her tights ached from sitting on the hard stool for too long and her eye’s stung with both long gone tears and hopeless exhaustion, but she could not afford to care about such trivialities. Not when Petyr had still not woken up from his artificially induced slumber.

His wounds were deep and crude, but not necessary mortal. Brandon Stark had listened to his intended at last and not killed Petyr. No, he would take joy from letting her beloved living with the shame.

Cat, for her part, hadn’t been here, not a single time. During the night she had slept in her comfortable bed, while it was Lysa who had healed Petyr’s hand as he had been crying out in pain. Now it was midday and still, her sister hasn’t even asked for their friend’s well-being. Lysa boiled with rage. What was he seeing in her, when she was right here? Always right here?

In the morning Edmure had sneaked in, with quiet and unsure steps. He had stood and watched Lysa and Petyr from a distance. She hadn’t noticed him at first, but when she turned she caught blue eyes clouded by sadness. “I didn’t want him to get hurt.”, he whispered softly, like the small boy he still was.

It would have been easy to direct her anger and hopelessness at him, but this was her baby brother. Edmure was reckless and impulsive at times, but usually, he was well-meaning. In the end, he had just done his duty…

“I didn’t mean to let him get hurt…”, he took his face into her hands and caressed his soft curls. “I- I thought he meant to prove himself by holding his own- I didn’t think he meant it—”, his voice broke a bit. “I should have stopped him… He is my friend, our friend after all…”

Pulling him close was easy, comforting for her too. “It will be alright.”, she tried, but if it was to comfort him or herself, Lysa could not tell. “Does Petyr love Cat in such a fashion that he would disregard her wishes like this?”

Lysa looked into white space for a while…

Edmure was not wrong…

Was she behaving just the same?

She glanced out the window and tensed. She saw Cat standing way too close to Brandon Stark. He was smiling down at her, clearly amused with whatever she was telling her. His big hand tangled in her red hair. Lysa didn’t have to see Cat’s face to know how love-sick she probably looked.

The ugly beast named jealously slithered thru her veins. No! It was not fair that she had everything! A prestigious match who was gentle with her, a man she seemed to adore at that and to top it off Petyr’s love.

Lysa had nothing! The last man who her father wanted to ship her off to had been Jaime Lannister. But rumors that the King wanted him for the Kingsguard. If that turned out to have merit she would start back at square one.

And even if she ended up to score the alliance with the Lannister’s for her family. Jaime Lannister was an asshole. She doubted that he would ever respect her let alone love her (not that she could see herself love him anyway…) and she longed for Petyr’s affection when he never looked at her twice.

It was not fair and it was all Cat’s fault.

It had to be.

It had to be…?

__

Lysa had not wanted to follow her family to wish the Starks farewell. There was no energy in her body to care for them, not after what happened. She noticed Eddard shot her worried looks but her father wanted her to stay composed…

Having him asking questions might t little façade she had built for this.

When the northern party was just a speck on the horizon she released an exhausted breath and hurried back to her Petyr’s side. He was still sleeping, almost peacefully if it wasn’t for the purple bruises and dried blood.

She watched his chest rise and fall, clinging to the proof of his life until she drifted off…

__

“Lysa?”

The words were faint and raspy but still, it was enough to start her out of a weird place between sleep and wake. After clearing her head the instant confusion was replaced by sheer joy. Petyr was sitting, gods knew how, but he was finally awake and that was all that matters.

When her tears came she hardly took notice of them. “Petyr! I am so glad you are awake.” Her heart broke anew as he shied away from her touch. His eyes seemed tired and somewhat defeated but there was live there and Lysa told herself that it was all that mattered.

“Sorry…”, he gave her a sad smile. “I-”

Petyr’s face hardened suddenly and then: “What about Catelyn? Did she visit me? Did she-?”

Closing her eyes Lysa brushed her stubborn tears away, relief giving way to frustration and rage. It was hard to contain her feelings solely because she was so physically exhausted. But fighting now would do no one good.

“I haven’t spoken to her since that evening. She was not here, not once. Edmure was tough and Uncle Brynden.” And me, she wanted to scream in his face. I didn’t leave your side. But she kept her mouth shut. Lysa wasn’t even sure he had registered anything beyond ‘Cat didn’t care’.

“Brandon Stark?”

She shook her head. “The Northerners left a few hours ago.”

She didn’t tell him that Cat had spent the two days he had been out exclusively with her fiancé. It would only inflict unnecessary hurt.

Nodding Petyr laid back, the tension of keeping upright written in his face. Lysa reached out for him again but restrained herself at the last minute. He didn’t want her to touch him, so she would not.

Just when Lysa had put herself together to open her mouth again, the door opened. Hoster Tully walked into the sick room for the first time. Petyr straightened up again and Lysa stood. Her father’s face was way too solemn to take whatever was coming lightly.

But Lord Tully did not even look at his daughter.

“Petyr. You are awake and alive.” It was a statement without room to answer. “I will grant you a fortnight to recover after that you will be on your way home.”

“Father!”, she hated how shrill her voice was, how tight the grip of panic was around her throat was. She hated her own silly weakness. “You can’t do that…”

Hoster shot her a disapproving glance. Something Cat would never receive.

“I am the Lord of this keep, child! I choose who resides here and his time was long up. He can be thankful I don’t banish him like that.” Another cold glare. “As for you: I am your father and head of your household. As my daughter I aspect you to follow my orders. Do you understand?”

“Yes, Lord Tully.”

“I am disappointed in you, Lysa. You should support your sister. Always. You are a Tully too after all.”

Family. Duty. honor.

Her mind provided their house words automatically. But today she did not particularly feel them. But she would not say that to her father. Not that he gave her any time to answer anything. He was already gone.

__

Over the next weeks, the date of Petyr’s departure hung over them like the thread it was. He made progress with his recovery tough and Lysa was glad for it. Even if she seemed to be the only one to feel that way one way or another.

Edmure had only visited Petyr once to make sure he was truly awake and well, he did not apologize for aiding Stark but he expressed regret for the injuries. After that Lysa who spent every waking moment at Petyr’s side didn’t see much of him.

Cat held her distance. Something that hung between her and Petyr like a line she could not cross, no matter what she did for him.

One evening after eating dinner in silence. Petyr turned to her and it felt like the first time in forever that he was looking at her, really looking at her. “Lysa, I wanted to thank you.” His hand reached out to hers and squeezed it. She smiled. “Of course. I would do anything for you.”

At that, his face became sad again, only for a moment. When he pressed his lips against hers and she finally had the taste of mint back on her tongue, she did not stop him. She did not stop him when he touched her even when they both knew it was Cat he wanted. She did not stop him when he urged her to undress. She did not stop him when she entered her again.

She should have known better, all things considered.

__

Lysa begged him to let Petyr stay, insisting that he had learned his lesson, but Lord Hoster was unmoving in his judgment.

The night before Lysa sat with Petyr like that had every evening in the last two months, as hardly anyone else would keep Petyr company. Uncle Brynden would check on them occasionally and sometimes Lysa caught Edmure loitering about the corridor Petyr’s room was in.

Tonight Petyr was still angry, but in the hopeless way, that broke her heart. In a perfect world, she would be able to marry him, to make him love him. Maybe if that was the case, she could mend things with Cat. Her beloved, strong older sister and her bitterest rival.

(A part of Lysa wished she never fell in love with Petyr in the first place.)

She put a hand over her stomach, aching with anxiety.

Petyr sighed: “Accepting you into my bed was a mistake…” Biting her lip she waited for him to elaborate, ignoring the sting of hurt in favor of appearing collected. (More like Cat; More to his liking.)

“I don’t love you.”

“You don’t mean that…”

“I do. You know- You know I love Cat. I shouldn’t have used you like that I am sorry.”

But Lysa didn’t care if he was sorry or not. She loved him and by letting him deflower her she had endangered her own future. She was hurt and angry, but she did not know if with Petyr or herself or Cat or Father or Brandon Stark.

“Don’t come to see me off tomorrow, Lysa. You should sleep. I am grateful that you stayed by my side but I can’t give you what you want…”

“You can marry me without loving me!”

Her own voice sounded foreign to her ears. The pain had drowned in desperation. What was she to do without him? Without Cat who would leave soon? With her Father who was nothing but disappointed in her? She wasn’t even sure if staying at Riverrun or being married off to some stranger was the worse option. She wanted a husband she knew and loved.

She wanted Petyr.

“Lysa… I don’t want to hurt you more...”

“Please! Please Please Don’t leave me. Don’t leave me.”

She had started crying, but he had squeezed her shoulder and left her in her misery.

__

The next morning by dawn she had watched him ride off without a word to her, to anyone.

There was scarcely anything worse than the sting of abandonment. Her grief made her sick to her stomach and a moment later she threw up into her washbasin, feeling worse for the wear.

It didn’t get better, but it was only two days later that Lysa went to the Maester, not being able to live with the sickness. But in retrospect, she wished she didn’t.

She was with child.


	14. Catelyn III

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Cat was heartbroken for Lysa.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Hi guys I am a bit late.   
> I hope you can enjoy the chapter either way

The news of Lysa’s pregnancy made it to the remaining Tully siblings faster than their Father would have liked, probably.

Cat was disappointed in her little sister.

Sure, she knew that Lysa fancied Petyr. She knew what a romantic she was when all was said and done, but she had hoped in her heart of hearts that Lysa would be clever enough to not give herself up, especially since Petyr Baelish did not care for her at all. (The fact that he had used her like that after what he had said to Cat only a few weeks ago only proven that.)

Cat was glad that she had not wavered and go visit him. Their friendship was over when he could not respect her feelings and agency. He had become an enemy when he had taken her sister as a condolence price.

Her relationship with Lysa was strained, mostly because of Petyr, but being used as a less desirable version of her would only dig the divide deeper and for that alone she could never forgive him.

Cat was heartbroken for Lysa.

In the end, she was in love with Petyr and for that feeling, she could not fault her, but she wished she could have shielded her more, without her taking it the wrong way. She wished Lysa could understand that she never loved Petyr as he wanted her to, that what affection she had for him, vanished after what he had done to her. She wished Lysa could believe her that Cat would always love her more.

She also knew well enough that all the sympathy in the world would not take Lysa’s feelings. She would still love him… for a while? Forever? Who was to know?

Petyr was a worse man than she could ever imagine. She had seen a dreamy boy every time she had looked at him. A boy that hadn’t taken no for an answer and who thought he could win her love by beating another man, but a boy nonetheless. When had be become so despicable?

Lastly, Cas feared for Lysa’s future.

If she carried that bastard to term, securing a good marriage for her would be more difficult. Sure, even if she used moon tea to get rid of it: 1) it was not guaranteed that the news would not find their way out of Riverrun. Even as rumors they could be difficult to overcome and 2) and more importantly it could damage Lysa’s health permanently. If it was so easy to get rid of unwanted children, there would be way fewer bastards.

Lysa loved children. As much as she would mock complain to Edmure that he was an annoying toddler, she loved him and the prospect of her having to give up this child and endangering her chances of conceiving more was saddening.

(There was also a part of Cat that was somewhat curious about what intercourse was like. She was still a maiden and her wedding day was too far away for her liking…)

Knowing Lysa she probably hoped she could wed Petyr know, to legitimize her child and marry the boy she was so sure, she was in love with. But Cat knew their father would never permit it. Lysa would sooner die than marry so deep under her station.

There was an aching in her chest when she thought about the hurt her sister must feel right now. Sure, Cat was angry and disappointed. Lysa always sided with Petyr over her or Edmure blinded by her feelings for him and-

Cat had understood a while ago that Lysa had taken to blame her for Petyr’s fancy for her. She just hadn't been sure how to breach such a topic without making it worse.

Then the ‘duel’ had happened and all chances to get thru to Lysa seemed gone by without their relationship improving in any shape or form (There was a voice in the back of her head insisting that it had worsened…)

It took a while for her to emerge from her worry-filled brooding and actually physically go to Lysa’s room. What she found, was not unexpected, but she wished it was different.

“Father, please!”

Lysa’s tear strained voice made her freeze on the corridor. Cat met her Uncle Brynden’s eye. The blackfish was positioned in front of the room. Only then did she actively register how abandoned the hallway was.

No witnesses to her sister’s shame-

“Lysa this is not up for discussion any more! You have disappointed me enough already. You can be grateful I don’t toss you out to raise your bastard in the streets! And will you shut up about marrying him? Do you think he didn’t know that was never going to happen before he violated you? Think!””

There it was the little gasp, that told Cat that Lysa had swallowed an immediate response. She crept closer, shooting a tight smile to Brynden who had only a sorrowful glance as an answer.

When she glanced inside the room, the first thing she noticed was how tired Horster Tully seemed. She had never seen his eyes set so deep and dark. Lysa on the other hand displayed a hundred emotions and not a single one all at once.

Her eyes were red and puffy, salt drying on her cheeks, but there was quite a desperation in the way she cradled her flat stomach. Cat had to swallow her unease. It was the proof that the talk from this morning had been true, that inside her sister, Petyr Baelish’s bastard grew…

Hoster put his rough hands on his daughter's lean shoulder, watching her with blue eyes. The sadness there was almost as suffocating as Lysa’s own.

“Child. Listen. I love you. I don’t know if you can believe me right now, but I do. I love you and your siblings more than I love myself but there is only so much I can do to shield you from bad choices. This time you took the wrong path and-“

He carefully put a steaming cup into her hands.

Moon Tea.

“I hope you understand one day that this- This is only for your own good. Your own safety…”

Your own safety…

The words buzzed in Cat’s head. Drinking Moon Tea always came with certain health risks. Some girls would be left barren by the way the potion rips the undeveloped child from the womb others even more rarely pay for their sexual escapades with their lives.

Lysa held the cup and watched its content with a blank expression.

“I don’t want to be a murderer, Father…”

Biting her lip Cat silenced her own whimper at that. It was all things considered an impossible choice. Cat knew her sister yearned for the security of an own family, her own children… A husband that loved her. Which girl didn’t dream of that?

Maybe that was another reason why Lysa hated to see her with Brandon?

He was gentle only with her and polite and sincere.

Did she love him?

No, they barely knew each other. But she would lie if she said she didn’t find him attractive (and was excited for her wedding day…) Here there was a possibility of love growing and it was a chance she gladly took.

She also understood the guilt that Lysa faced. She wanted children too, not because she knew it was expected of her but because she wanted to experience the joy of raising them. It would be like with Edmure, she would just be better prepared.

On that note how could she look those future children in the eye, if she had killed another earlier to make sure they would be possible. Who were they to choose which child was allowed to live and which wouldn’t be? What would the gods think of her sister?

"This is no murder child. This is self-preservation. Listen to me once without talking back, Lysa.”

When Lysa put the cup to her lips, Cat turned sharply, gathering as much skirt as possible in her hands, and ran back the way she had come.

It was a hard decision for Lysa. One Cat was not sure she could make it. One she was embarrassingly relieved that she didn’t have to make it.

May the mother and the maiden look after her baby sister.

__

An hour later Cat wished she hadn’t been such a coward. The castle was drowning in tumult and as she anxiously ran to see what it was about she found her sister’s screams of agony before she saw anything. Considering the amount of blood, she wished she could have just turned away.

But her father was nowhere to be found and Lysa was alone in a room a Maester and handmaiden, strangers.

And Edmure was frozen on the spot near her, watching in horror as the blood sliding down their sister’s legs dyed her day dress a haunting crimson. It was sickening in the worst way possible, but she had to care for all her siblings.

Gently she grabbed his shoulder and tried to steer him clear of the room, but it was easier said than done. Edmure was pale and when she finally diverted his attention, she saw the shine of tears in his big blue eyes. Cat hugged him and pressed a firm kiss on his temple (He was on the way to grow taller than her), answering his unasked question. “Lysa will be fine. She has to be.”

But honestly: She had no idea what she was promising.

As Edmure was on his way to his room, Cat fell next to Lysa’s bed, ignoring the woman around her in their attempt to shush her away. Their Maester looked not very pleased with her being there during his procedure either, but if he was about to complain, he chose not to.

“Cat?”, Lysa’s eyelids fluttered open as her finger held on to Cat’s hand for dear life.

“I am here.”, she said and ignored the tremble in her own voice. She would be here until the bitter end. Whatever that meant for Lysa tonight.

“Please don’t leave me.”

Lysa’s voice was hazed, panicked, and laced with pain.

“I am here, sweetling. I won’t go anywhere until you feel better.”

She brushed heavy strands out of Lysa’s sweat-drenched face. The skin was burning with fever and Cat’s own fear just grew inside of her, steady and treacherous. Lysa’s wide eyes met hers and Cat realized that this was not what she meant. 

“Please Cat! Everyone will leave me…

Please!”

But there was nothing Cat could promise.

It took a while to stop the bleeding and every second of it Cat spent in an agonizing haze while she whispered sweet nothingness into her sister’s ear.

In the end, the Maester gave her a bit of Milk of the Poppy and Cat used the time to clean herself.

__

Lysa had woken up a few minutes ago and Cat made fast work to visit her again.

“Hello, sweetling. How do you feel?”

She groaned in the wide bed and turned to lock at Cat’s face.

“Like my insides bleed onto the floor…”

Cat moved to lie on top of the covers on the other side of Lysa’s bed next to her. Lysa’s face was now ashed and her eyes sat deep in her skull, dark and tired.

“Please, Cat. I am sorry for all the things I said the other day. It is not fair of me to demand you to stay or blame you for leaving when you have as little choice as I have…”

The sentence seemed rehearsed. Cat suspected that Lysa had thought long about her behavior and what to say. She was glad that their relationship was not beyond repair yet. So, to show her that she didn’t mind, Cat squeezed Lysa’s hand a bit. Just hard enough to make her presence known.

“I knew how you felt. About Father, Me, Jaime Lannister…. Petyr…. I should have done something earlier… I should have been more assertive with Petyr. I should have taken his feelings seriously and rejected him more clearly. I never thought he might-“

“He didn’t force himself on my, Cat.”

Catelyn frowned at her little sister who would not meet her gaze.

“Lysa-“

“I knew it was you that he wanted and I still let him. You want to know why? Because after all the hurt he caused me, I still love him.”

She traced over her belly with tentative fingertips.

“And ultimately I am not really the one that paid the price for it.”

“You wanted that child?”

“I don’t know… I definitely didn’t want to die just to get rid of it…”

Cat squeezed their joined hands again.

“Do you mind me staying here a little bit? I could use the company?”

“Sure, just don’t be mad if father yells at you for disturbing my sleep.”

They both smiled at each other shyly.


	15. Lysa VIII

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> But it was odd to see headstrong Lyanna spill tears for him like that.
> 
> As Lysa moved back to her father she saw Brandon asked Ashara to dance for a very flustered Ned. She smiled, as she saw the gentle way the dornish girl took his hands. Maybe romance wasn’t dead after all.
> 
> A sentiment that would blow back into her face tomorrow, but she didn’t know that quite yet.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Hello my dears,   
> it is time for some fluff before shit hits the fan lol  
> (Especally some Cat/Brandon fluff for obvious reasons...)  
> Stay safe and have a good week!

Several weeks after she could leave her bed again, Lysa was still devastated.

She felt like she had done something unforgivable and only because she had been too emotional to see reason. Now she had lost so much and she just felt hollow.

But even if she had time to grieve her unborn child and her first love, it didn’t feel nearly enough. Maybe it would never be enough- Still, time moved on with or without her approval and when her grandfather announced his great tourney in Harrenhall, she knew she had to attend. Regardless of her own feelings.

Cat worried for her.

Edmure did too.

She caught the stolen glances her siblings shot her. She noticed the way Catelyn never left her alone in the company, making sure she was comfortable and in the headspace to interact with the people around her. It was as if she was made out of glass, a delicate figurine, and her sister was afraid the weight of the world would shatter her one way or another.

(Maybe she wasn’t that wrong…)

In the end, they were on their way.

Family. Duty. Honor.

She had saved her family from the shame of her bastard, now she was doing her duty as a noble daughter.

Cat looked radiant in the dark blue dress with the stream of maroon fish swimming about the skirt; the sigil sowed into the chest piece. They both wore the same. With sadness, Lysa realized that this might as well be the last public event to which her sister would wear Tully colors. Her wedding day was near after all.

The massive misshaped castle appeared on the horizon like a sore thump and even not quite there Lysa could tell that it was swarming with nobles from all the seven kingdoms. Being amongst them felt suffocating, but Lysa held on to Cat and put a pleasant smile on her lips.

They were presented to the Princes and the beautiful Princess Elia.

Rhaegar was as stunning as people said, the air around him cool and melancholic in an almost poetic way. It was easy to see why so many women and men fell for his charms. His younger brother Vyserys resembled him quite a bit but he seemed too hard and too sharp where the crown prince was soft and dreamy.

His wife Elia was a beauty with kind dark eyes and a smile that could light up the room. She was also pregnant, known to be so. A visual that stung sharply. The little Princess Rhaenys was a sweet toddler with round deep purple eyes.

She saw the other Lannister siblings too. Cersei wearing brilliant Crimson, looking so much like Jaime it was eerie while she shot the dornish Princess toxic glances. Her younger brother was as deformed as people said. He seemed almost lost in the crowd.

The loud roaring she heard could only belong to Robert Baratheon. He was broad and handsome. Stannis, Lyanna’s fiancé was sour-looking and obviously annoyed by his older brother.

Speaking of: Lysa could almost physically feel Cat search for the Starks.

And the way she lit up when she lay eyes on Brandon.

Lysa suppressed a sigh and followed her siblings and father over to them. To his credit Brandon broke out into a smile too when he saw them, Ned waved somewhat stiff, Benjen smiled too and Lyanna seemed skeptical.

The head of their houses exchanged pleasantries and after a while, the children were left alone to socialize amongst themselves.

Brandon and Cat vanished to dance as soon it was socially acceptable while Edmure bombarded Benjen with questions regarding his training that Lysa was left with Lyanna and Ned who both seemed like they didn’t want to be there for two entirely different reasons.

Lyanna was the object of frequent longing gazes from Robert Baratheon who’s cup was filled with strong ale so early in the evening. Ned for his part didn’t seem to make small talk and courtesy. If Lysa had to guess he just hated the attention at events like this.

“Lyanna. It is good to finally see you.”, Truth be told Lysa was tired from the last few weeks and there was little left in her that cared for this everlasting masquerade of noble politics that great events like this were, but Lyanna was the only girl here she could talk honestly to. Someone who would not lie to her face about liking her (or not knowing about the not-so-false rumors that she was in love with Petyr)

(Because she was in love with Petyr, but it was more complicated than that…)

The girl turned to her, frowning. “Well, it isn’t like you answered my last letters…”, her eyes cold as icy steel. Lysa shrugged. “We all have our own problems…” It is weak she knew. “But I heard from your brothers that your engagement to Robert Baratheon was lifted. I am glad, I suppose. It is what you wanted.”

Lyanna’s gaze flickered over to the Baratheon brothers and met Stannis’ shortly. “I wanted to marry for love.”, she answered. “Stannis is my friend, that much is clear now but I don’t love him and I don’t think we can be easily happy…”

“Lyanna…”, Ned seemed vaguely guilty about her bitterness. It might be because Robert was his best friend and he was not uninvolved in the negotiations for his sister's betrothal.

“But I guess you know about the problem of politics, marriage, and love.”

“Lyanna!”

Lysa closed her eyes briefly. Did she mention that she didn’t want to be here? “I had an affection for Petyr when he lived with us.”, her voice was level, almost expressionless. “But as you know such things can past fast and he-“

“He was known to be in love with your sister? And don’t forget the talk about a betrothal between you and Jaime Lannister? He didn’t want you either… And now he will be a Kingsguard…”

One could almost taste Lyanna’s bitterness, but Lysa had little patience for her. “It is a rumor… and even if he will be appointed, I can't say I would be sad. Either way, I will do my duty to my family…”

The ‘ _unlike you_ ’ was implied.

When Lyanna scoffed and turned, Lysa was left alone with Ned.

The boy was her sister’s age, not as tall or dangerously handsome as his elder brother, but with gentle dark grey eyes and a pretty smile. “Please don’t take her attitude seriously. She is just angry that things won’t go her way. She will see reason eventually.”

Lysa was not sure if she could believe that, if the male relatives in Lyanna’s life underestimated her because she was a girl, but as far as Lysa could tell she was unpredictable. (Not that it was her place to lecture Ned about it…)

“Let’s dance.”, she said with a small smile. At least with the Stark boy, she knew he would respect her boundaries in conversation. It might be enjoyable.

Eddard seemed flustered, ready to make excuses but she took his hand regardless. They swayed a bit to the beat of the music. “Lyanna isn’t wrong to want to be loved.”, she told him eventually, her heart heavy with the recent loss. “But since marriage is usually only political in our circles, it is hard. She has to learn that she usually can't have it both ways and the fact that the Baratheon agreed to betroth her to Stannis, who respects her as her own person instead of Robert who she clashed with is a huge admission and privilege. I don’t mean to pry but she doesn’t seem to appreciate it enough…

I don’t like Jaime Lannister, even a bit, and as far as I can see that feeling is mutual… Do you think our fathers care enough to not marry us? Sure, if he really is about to become a Kingsguard it might save me an unhappy marriage but he sure didn’t do that with his father’s consent…”

Ned watched her with knitted brows, obviously contemplating her point of view, while her eyes sweept the dance floor. She spotted her sister in Brandon’s eyes, chatting and laughing. “Not everyone is as lucky as our siblings obviously are…”

Jaime Lannister was here too, dancing with his pretty sister, their golden hair shining as they danced in perfect harmony. The beautiful Lady Ashara danced with a member of the Kingsguard, his white cloak was sweeping along gallantly… She noticed Ned watching her too, intently even. She grinned. “I am not the only one who appreciates Ashara Dayne’s beauty…”

He flushed adorably which only heightened her mood.

But before he could open his mouth, someone cleared their trout next to them. When Lysa turned her smile disappeared. Jaime Lannister extended his hand to her, looking exceedingly annoyed. “My father wants me to dance with you… For appearance.”

How charming.

She rolled her eyes.

But gave Ned an apologetic smile. “We will talk later.” And took Jaime’s hand, because making a scene was counterproductive at this point. Besides she didn’t have the energy to care that much right now.

They spun in silence for a while until Jaime scoffed annoyed and opened his mouth. “You really are quite rage-inducing you know that right?” She huffed out a laugh. “Frankly, I am not in the mood to play nice with you, _Ser_! Given that we both know how we feel about each other by now.”

“I guess you heard the rumor about me? About your appointment as Kingsguard? I guess the King could make a worse decision, but that you hate the thought of marrying me so much you make such a grave decision…”

“Well, it is not really my decision, but if it helps it is not you necessarily. I don’t want to marry anyone.”

“Then why keep up appearance like this?”

“My father wants an alliance with your family. He hates the fact that I might be taken from him as heir…”

“So, it’s true?”

He nodded and their conversation subsided again. What was their left to say between them anyway? Lysa was watching the other people over his shoulder. Ned was now dancing with Cat. Her sister actually managed to make him look comfortable enough. Ashara Dayne was now dancing with the handsome Prince of Dorne, only to be asked by redheaded Jon Connington next.

When she was finally released by Jaime, she moved to ask Brandon, ready for easy conversation with her future good brother, as both Lyanna and Cat moved to watch Prince Rhaegar sing. His voice was beautiful, but Lysa didn’t see the point in swooning over him. He was so unapproachable, cool, and polite in the worst way possible.

But it was odd to see headstrong Lyanna spill tears for him like that.

As Lysa moved back to her father she saw Brandon asked Ashara to dance for a very flustered Ned. She smiled, as she saw the gentle way the dornish girl took his hands. Maybe romance wasn’t dead after all.

A sentiment that would blow back into her face tomorrow, but she didn’t know that quite yet.


	16. Jaime V

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Ser Gerold Hightower, the famous White Bull stood by the side-eyeing him sternly. Jaime respected the man for his reputation and his skill even at his age, but he was sure he would be better than him with time.
> 
> He swore a lot of things, he was not even sure he would care that much about if he was honest.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Hey guys,   
> A bit late but here is Jaime's Harrenhall chapter.  
> I hope you have nice holidays if you celebrate.

He broke free from Lysa Tully and the rachet topic of conversation they had pursued. As far as he was concerned this would be the last time, he had to entertain her. And he was not sad about the fact.

Smoothing out his doublet, Jaime stalked back to Cersei- only to find his sister mooning over Rhaegar Targaryen again. The annoyance he felt over the Tully girl palled in comparison to the blind anger and rotten jealousy he felt now. Cersei was his.

His _twin_.

His other half.

His _true_ love.

How dare this pretty boy of a prince to monopolize her attention and desire like this?

Turning roughly Jaime plopped down between Tywin and Tyrion. His little brother shot him a crooked grin. “Is it so bad to spent time with a pretty redhead?” Jaime scoffed and downed a cup of wine. His mind hadn't even been on the fish girl since he had left her. His thoughts were consumed by the disrespect Cersei was showing him.

“It is unbearable when the girl is nothing but an overhyped airhead…”

Tyrion watched him intently and swallowed his own drink. “It would have been a bad match anyway…” He smiled so easily. Sometimes Jaime wanted to be more like his brother in that regard. “Would the marriage made her goldfish?”

Jaime gave him a tired look, not in the mood, but Tyrion just laughed at his sour expression and poured him more wine. It wasn’t that easy though. Jaime turned and was met by his Father’s disapproving stare only for Tywin to jerk away and ignore him completely.

His father was furious with the announcement that Kind Aerys would come to the tourney tomorrow to take his vow to the Kingsguard. He was furious that he, as the hand of the King and close (or once close) friend to the King, could not prevent his heir to be taken from him.

He did suspect Cersei and Jaime to be behind it in a way or another, but could hardly prove anything if the King thought of it as his idea…

(It left a bitter taste in his mouth because Cersei made it sound so easy: She would be Queen and him her Kingsguard. But the Prince was married to another Princes and he would be forced to guard them, while she would be sold to some other idiot, that wasn’t _him_.)

Later that night, when he had the opportunity to seek Cersei alone. He shoved her into a wall, roughly. She did not make a sound of protest, when his lips met her sweet ones, kissing her as if his life depended on it. (Sometimes it felt like it.) She opened her mouth patiently for him, Green eyes just fixing him and chin raised in challenge. Gods, did he hated how she had him in her hand and how he knew, just knew he would do anything for this woman.

“I cannot understand how you can still grow so jealous, dear brother…”

Her voice ghosted into his ear. Both promising and dangerous.

“I am your other half. There will never be any competition.”

He believed her; he wanted to believe her so desperately.

So, he closed his eyes and gave Cersei what she wanted: Him.

__

The next day was bright and given the slight hangover he had too noisy. (But that was not really a priority.) Today the great tourney would start and Jaime was ready to prove himself before the King. Aerys had arrived in the middle of the night when most of his subjects were already in their beds.

Jaime was hoisted into his polished armor, ornated with gold. He shined as bright as the morning sun.

He was ready for his grand entrance.

Jaime strode up to kneel before the King, for all the realm to see. He was a young and talented knight in shining armor. He was well aware of the Ladies eyes on him and it boosted his confidence. Not only was he gorgeous, but in a few moments, he would be the youngest man to ever be appointed to the King’s Guard. The proof that he was extraordinary at what he was doing.

The proof that he was better than any of them.

Aerys was a once handsome man, betrayed by age and stress, with an insane glint in unblinking violet eyes. But the fact that Jaime didn’t like him had nothing to do with the task at hand.

Ser Gerold Hightower, the famous White Bull stood by the side-eyeing him sternly. Jaime respected the man for his reputation and his skill even at his age, but he was sure he would be better than him with time.

He swore a lot of things, he was not even sure he would care that much about if he was honest.

He swore that he would protect the King and the royal family.

Jaime’s gaze flickered from the old King with his unkempt hair to the crown prince, his pregnant wife, and young daughter.

Rhaegar was handsome he had to admit, but he always seemed to have the personality of a wet washcloth. He never understood why girls were lusting after him when men like Arthur Dayne stood right next to him. Princes Elia of Dorne was a beauty of thick shiny hair and kind dark eyes but even her sunshine paled in comparison to Cersei’s brilliance.

She was in fact noticeably pregnant, but it was whispered that the Maester’s disapproved of the pregnancy since her fragile constitution had made little Rhaeny’s birth already dangerous, getting another child so soon after was said to be dangerous.

(Maybe Cersei would get her to wish to wed the man if she died after all.)

Princess Rhaenys was all her mother’s daughter, with the same facial structure and dark hair but dark purple eyes: her only Targaryen feature.

Prince Vyserys seemed like a spoiled little boy, given that he was a prince, that was not that surprising. He looked the most like their father.

Jaime swore to obey the King’s command.

(Even though he was not sure that sat right with him, he really did what people told him too and King Aerys was not a strong nor sane man…)

He swore to keep the King’s secrets.

He swore to counsel the King when requested and keep silent otherwise.

(he was not sure what kind of counsel he could provide given that most men didn’t take him as seriously as he liked due to his age.)

Jaime swore to serve the King’s pleasure and defend his name and honor.

(What was he to do if his King had no honor?)

His knees ached a bit on the wooden platform, more from the tension in his body than the actual time he spent kneeling. Ser Gerold fastened the pure white cloak around his shoulders. “Rise, ser Jaime Lannister of the King’s Guard.”

The smallfolk and the nobles cheered for him and Jaime sought out his sister’s sweet face. She had to be proud of him. The moment was shattered by the glimpse of Tywin’s face he caught. The twisted sneer on his father’s face. It made his heart sink; disappointing him once again.

He made short eye contact with Lysa Tully, ironically. He nodded at her. They would never have to interact on the tedious assumption that they would marry one dreaded day. In a way, it was almost funny that they might be civil now that they technically didn’t have to anymore.

He was content, high on the attention almost, and ready to prove the decision by winning the tourney.

It was laughably easy to shatter that happiness with some small words.   
King Aerys fixed him with lilac eyes.

“Ser Jaime, my first order is for you to return to King’s Landing to guard the Queen.”

Jaime’s mouth ran dry with disbelieve. He stood there in his rich armor and fine cloak and he could not move, not ready to believe what he heard. The King for his part watched him with barely concealed annoyance.

“Your majesty- I-“

Another dark look and he clapped his mouth shut. He saw the way Ser Gerold shot him a pitiful look and that shamed him more than anything else. (He was just glad he could not see Arthur Dayne’s face.)

When Jaime still didn’t move, Aerys sneered at him. “Did I stutter, boy?”

Now he blushed, blood boiling with anger. He was not an insolent child, that raged because he could. He was disappointed that he would be sidelined at such a prestigious tourney. But the worst thing was, that he could not understand why he was humiliated like that…?

“My King, I am volunteering to protect our Queen. It might be benefiting-“

Jaime would have appreciated Ser Gerold’s attempt to help him more if it would do more than embarrass than more.

“Ser, I am sure I can delegate my Kingsguard myself.” Aerys seemed done for now. He didn’t even spare a glance to Jaime, instead, he was fixing Tywin. Jaime watched thin lips twist into a shallow grin.

Jaime’s stomach dropped.

In the end, he turned with his head held high and left the Riverlands without talking to anything, except his away party. He was disappointed, angry, and vaguely guilty. Did the King only appoint him to get back at his father? Hadn’t this ever been about him and his abilities? It was unfair. Why was he only an instrument in an old man’s feud?


	17. Jaime VI

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> It all fell apart so quickly.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Sorry that I didnt update yesterday. I was distracted with some other things but I hope you are all well and enjoy the holiday season!

It all fell apart so quickly.

When the Prince and the Princess returned from the tourney, the news of what Rhaegar had done had already reached the city. Jaime actually didn’t give much of a thought about all of that. But in his own humble opinion, he could do better than Lyanna Stark.

Sure, she was pretty and seemed wild like her brother Brandon but that was about it.

He could also not really say he knew what the prince was thinking about making his interest in another girl. (Lyanna was young not a child but not a woman yet.) When his wife, his pregnant wife was right there.

One of the reasons why he enjoyed his position despite the uncertainty of Cersei’s place of residence, was the fact that he didn’t want to get married. For one he could not marry Cersei, not here not, not legally. And every other woman in his life felt like infidelity. Secondly, he didn’t want to be involved with the politics that came with such a marriage.

Taking Lysa Tully as an easy example: They both didn’t like each other and like many stupid girls she probably wanted a husband that loved her. Something he just could not provide even if he would care enough.

None of that would matter as it was not them who made the decision. And for the woman in the marriage, their husband, the stranger they were forced to marry would control what they could do and how much power and freedom they had. (He feared for Cersei as Robert Baratheon was also in love with Lyanna Stark. What would he do to his sister who was to replace her?)

Princess Elia was not only more attractive than Lyanna Stark but came with arguably more political power in her family. And for the crown prince to take a potential mistress so openly was putting his trueborn children in danger of losing their station to potential bastard siblings.

The history of the Dance of Dragons was somewhat present in his mind since Tyrion was obsessed with the history of Dragons and with them the tightly knitted history of house Targaryen. Not that Jaime accused anyone of wanting to start a war, but he could not fault the noble houses to be uneasy about affairs like this.

It certainly made his time at court… interesting.

Elia was quick to act as if nothing had happened in the Riverlands. Jaime thought of it as weak, but then again: What else was she supposed to do? The capital adored their princess but they blindly loved their silver prince and they yearned for the day he would replace his unstable father as King.

So, when Jaime was not ghosting about the mumbling King, standing in front of the Queen’s door or shadowed either Rhaegar in his melancholic sulking or Viserys in his fits of prepubescent rage, he watched Elia break behind closed doors. How as Rhaegar kept and kept neglecting her and her daughter, she took to caring for Rhaenys herself more and more often. When she wasn’t cradling her child and belly, she was weeping breaking under uncertainty.

Jaime almost felt sorry for her.

The little Princess was adorable if Jaime cared for children in any shape or form. A tiny whirlwind of thick black curls, sunkissed skin, and round violet eyes that shone extra bright when she wanted a knight to help her find her Cat.

It was a slow, tense day when he heard the calls of several maids, almost drowning out the telltale slap of toddler's feet on stone. It came closer to him in an erratic tip tap tip tap pattern accompanied by breathless giggles and grumpy mews.

Jaime turned his head just in time to see a tangle of dark hair vanish behind a pillar, a very giggly pillar. He was guarding the entrance to the wing the crown prince and his family inhabited. The voices were slowly fading and Jaime had no idea how a little girl could outsmart several maids and septa, who were supposed to be intelligent adults.

Belor seemed to be done with his owner's antic for today and hopped into view only to hurry away then.

Little Princess Rhaenys followed him with a yelp of protest. When the cat vanished before she could catch up to it, she crossed her tiny arms over her chest annoyed. Then she turned, fast. “Ser Jaime!”, he kneeled down to her. “Your Highness?” She nodded as if she needed to confirm that this was in fact her title.

“Can you help me find Belor again?”, she pulled an adorable frowny face. “Pleaaaassseee!” Jaime had to smile a bit either way. “I am pretty sure your father would not appreciate you avoiding your lessons.” Her face grew dark fast. “Papa. Father spends a lot of time working… Not playing with me. He doesn’t care.“ Jaime remembered craving his father's attention like that. “When Rhae was little he said goodnight everyday…” But unlike her, he never really seemed to have it.

“Jaime!”, the voice made him freeze in motion. “Boy. Help me find my son! I know he is here somewhere.” The King stopped with a disgusted look when he saw his granddaughter. Rhaenys seemed terrified which was too sad to actually think about right now.

Jaime shot up again, heavy armor made it hard to find his balance. “Your Grace-“ Aerys made another step forward. He was more disheveled than he had been in the Riverlands. Jaime was not sure when he had bathed the last time and usually, he only saw him whenever the King saw it fit to trust him. But his guess was as good as any since the circle changed at random and fast. The spider seeming to be the only real constant.

He felt the little girl hold onto his side as if her life depended on it. Maybe it did. The King decided to ignore her for now, which shouldn’t relieve him like this. Things generally shouldn’t be like this. He should have been a good knight because being a good knight should have been easy, making the right decision should have been easy. He should have been with Cersei here by his side and not watch another family fall apart, while he was alone. He should have had it all.

It should not have been like this.

“Father.” Jaime had been so preoccupied that he hadn’t noticed the Prince and Ser Arthur flanking him. The girl let go of him to run to her own Father, but even though the Prince picked her up, he barely comforted her. “Ser Arthur will escort you to your study. I will follow shortly.” His smile was early natural. And a few complaints later Aerys did as Rhaegar suggested.

His face fell as soon as the two vanished behind the door, he opened his mouth to address Jaime and-

“Rhaenys! Sunshine, where have you been?”

Princess Elia hurried to them as fast as her very pregnant state allowed. Jaime wasn’t even sure if she shouldn’t rest at this point. Rhaegar regarded his wife with silent anger. “Why didn’t you keep her away from him?”

“Wha-? He was here? Why was he here? You promised we would be undisturbed-!”, Elia on the other hand had fire burning in her eyes. “He is the King!”, Rhaegar scoffed at her dismissively. “He can go where he pleases-“

“Then don’t promise things you know you can’t-“ She moved into his space, looking up at her husband utterly disappointed “That you can’t keep…” Rhaenys was still in her father’s arms, cowering between her parents. Seemingly noticing that too, Rhaegar just passed her to her mother without another word. Elia deflated physically, back to being the sickly, fragile girl people liked to see in her. She kissed her daughter’s hair, murmuring sweet things into her ear. And sending her away with her Septa.

Rhaegar turned. Finished with the conversation, but Elia wasn’t.

“Where are you going?”

“Dealing with the King as you might have gathered by now.” His tone of voice was condescending, the kind of thing Jaime would have punched a guy for if it was Cersei. “That’s not what I meant. I am not blind, _husband_. I see the preparation you let made. I ask you again: Where are you going?”

“That is non of your-!“, she inhaled sharply. “You going to see her- What can a child, a girl, give you what I haven’t already given you-? Leave her alone. She deserves better than being taken advantage of-“

“You have no mind to understand what I need, Elia. I am- I am not using more than I am using you. We are meant for greater things! Rhaenys and my Aegon you carry-“ he stepped to her stroking her stomach, the child within. She flinched a bit but allowed it. “I can have more children if you give me time- I am your wife Rhaegar!”

“You have served your purpose, Sweet Princess. My last daughter needs fresher soil-“

Elia laughed bitterly, shaking with tears. “My purpose? Do you ever stop and think what will happen to your daughter if you do something so reckless as stealing a girl, a noble, betrothed girl? Let’s forget about me. But Rhaenys is _yours_. Your only charge until now- You can’t-“

“I _can_ and I _will_. I am just sorry you don’t understand the grander things that are at play here!” He turned from her. She was shaking with tears? Fear? Anger? Bitterness? “The dragon has three heads, Elia…”

Rhaegar took half the Kingsguard a few days later and just like that-

He was gone.

Off to bed Lyanna Stark.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Fuck Rhaegar!  
> And fuck people who honestly believe Elia would have been okay with R/L and the situation as it seem to have been. Like how the show was all like R/L were in love and got secretly married Love wins uwu. Rhaegar's wife and children that got brutally murrdered? Never heard of them. There is only one Aegon.   
> I wish Griff will be the real deal and that he or Arianne get some fucking justice. Like I get that with Ned as early MC we learned more about Lya faster but god-  
> And yes her situation was awful too as she was a kid herself and R a grown ass man grooming her in the best case scenario or using her as incubater for his prophacy child, either way horrible man.  
> Rant over.  
> (Lol I am sorry about that but this fandom makes me so angy sometimes)


	18. Jaime VII

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Burn them all...

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Hey guys!  
> I am a bit late once again lol  
> I hope you all are holding up for the rest of the year

The atmosphere in the keep only grew more insufferable with every day Rhaegar was away. The fickle moods of their King only strengthened with his paranoia. Only a few days ago he had installed an essosi torturing device in the throne room.

It hadn’t been used on anyone (yet.)

But the sole fact that it was there, glooming between dragon skeleton which would have been grotesque enough. The only person even able to go close to the King was the spider, a nasty fellow. Jaime suspected him to fuel the seed of mistrust in the mad old man’s head. Which made life hell for most attendance at court.

Even the few children remaining witnessed the change. Little Rhaenys’ light had dulled in the weeks her beloved father had been away. Jaime doubted she fully understood the situation regarding her grandfather, but she must have picked up at his disdain for her and her mother. If Jaime ever learned something from Tyrion as a child (that stuck) then that children saw and understood more about the world around them than adults gave them credit for.

One night she caught her by her baby brother’s crib.

(To his annoyance did Rhaegar’s assessment turned out right. The child was a boy. A sweet babe with silver hair and lilac eyes. Even his skin was considerably lighter than Elia’s or Rhaenys, making it all too easy for people to forget about his dornish heritage. A true Targaryen prince, just like his father.)

Rhaenys starred down at a smiling babe with utmost concentration. The boy took her finger in his delicate hand. as Jaime moved to carry her back to her own bed, she heard her whisper: “I will not let them hurt you. Mama is afraid, Aeg, and that is scary, but I love you sooo much and-“, her voice trembled. “Papa will come and save us. Papa will come and I will protect you too…”

The annoyance in his chest run cold to the point that he could not take a breath. He picked her up and tucked her in himself, more tender than he had even thought he would have the energy to.

Jaime had no idea of the inner workings of Rhaegar Targaryen. A quiet part in the back of his head hoped and prayed that he loved his children enough to return for them. That whatever was brewing up ahead of them would leave the children unscattered. Father had been hard with him in his youth but he knew that the old lion loved him enough to rescue him. (Another treacherous voice whispered that he would not know that he wasn’t his heir anymore…)

Something would happen soon…

If he remembered correctly Brandon Stark should be at Riverrun getting ready to marry lovely Catelyn Tully none the wiser of the plot revolving around his troublesome sister.

Jaime to his dismay was posted by the King’s side more often than he could stomach. But with half the Kingsguard following Rhaegar the few of them were spread uncomfortably thin between King, Queen, Prince, Princess, and Crown Prince’s heirs.

He was on his way to support the lone knight in the Throne Room when:

“Rhaegar, you coward, come out to die!”

The northern droll of Brandon Starks voice rang to the ghostly halls like a roar of Dragon’s lost. A wolf snarling with anger. And Jaime froze in his steps. More mortified than he had ever been in the last days and weeks. This was the recipe for disaster. He didn’t care for the man one way or the other but the king was unpredictable, seeing betrayal in every corner

Jaime forced himself to pick up pace as what seemed to be a group of Northerners caught up to him, his hand was on the hilt of his sword the entire time.

Ser Gerold was standing by the throne, knitting his brows together with a grim expression. When he saw Jaime he opened his mouth, probably to ask what the tumult was, but a servant entered, trembling.

“Brandon Stark asks for an audience with the King-“

Aerys wide eyes were looking right thru them as Jaime took his place at his other side, like muscle memory, a routine he desperately clung to. Quiet ineligible words filling the air around the swords.

The door banged open not a moment later and a group of nobles. Sure Brandon Stark was leading them, but he was not the only one, the only heir that made the journey.

Ser Gerold, bless his soul, tried to defuse the situation. “My Lords, I understand that you have grievances to bring up to the King but this is no way to behave-“

“Prince Rhaegar has abducted my sister, another man’s betrothed. He might rape her in this exact moment-“

“Ser, we came for justice.”, the Arryn boy really was said to be a sweet and beloved man, he was quick to help out. “A King should be a champion of justice, even if it concerns his own son-“

“We demand Rhaegar’s head-“, a Glover? Definitely a northern accent.

“And if we can have it legally we will take it.” Brandon again.

At that the King sprung to live, muttering cut short and unyielding violet eyes piercing themselves into the Northman. “How dare you come into my home and threaten my son?” Jaime watched the newcomers' faces as they saw in what kind of sad state their sovran was. “That you have the audacity to stand before your king and talk about treason like that.”

The palace guard had flooded the room while the old King was ranting.

“Arrest them and sent for Varys! I need Varys… They will have to answer for their crimes… all of them.”

Jaime stood ready in front of Queen Rhaella’s room, acting like he didn’t know what was going on in there this night, with the King visiting. A sight rare these days, two sons and numerous lost children later.

He closed his eyes and pretended that it didn’t border him.

It didn’t border him.

Rickard Stark had seemed a kindhearted man, or maybe Jaime was just projecting after what has happened. The smell of burning flesh still hanging in Jaime’s clothes as he had made his way to the gardens.

Burn them! The cries of his King rang in his ears like an explosion, burn them all!

Green flames, as green as Cersei’s eyes, licking at the man’s skin, eating him alive to the music of agony, desperation, and madness.

Brandon Stark had struggled until the end, but he had been set up to die alongside his father from the start.

Flashes of his body, the ugly bruises, and cuts vivid and prominent on dead flesh.

_Burn them all._

How long until Aerys will see the shadows of another conspiracy were it clearly wasn’t? How often would he have to stand there and watch as the King he had sworn to protect burn the innocent? How often smell the wretched smell of human life being taking in this most painful way? Will anything change?

_Burn them all._

_Burn them all._

_Burn them all._


	19. Catelyn IV

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> The warm man she had loved, with the spark of humor in his eyes was dead. Sure, he had barely known him, but she had been excited to change that. She thought she had a lifetime to change that.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Hey guys,
> 
> I am sorry that late posting seems to become a habit again, but I am moving (Just rooms in my ma's house but still) and I might be buying a Cat (I'm pretty sure I will buy a Cat lol) and I visited a family which sells kitten on Monday. But it was a bit further away and I spent the whole day on the train. (More so bc of delays by the deutsche bahn)
> 
> The kitten I picked out (or he picked my lol. between the kitten that were still available he warmed up to me first) is so nice. I love him already, but I have to wait at least another month to bring him home. I wanna name him Misha. (Not bc of Misha Collins) It's just a stupid pun lol
> 
> Anyway this chapter is short but since I have you a few Cat (lol) chapter I tought it necessary to adress her grive over Brandon from her POV too. Next chapter we will get CatNed wedding from Lysa's POV and than more war and Jaime in KL being traumatised. 
> 
> Happy New Year! I guess. Stay safe!

Cat stared out her window not really seeing anything.

It felt like just a few days ago that Brandon had been by her side, joking, smiling, _alive_. She had been able to hold onto him and talk about the things she had arranged for their marriage. Her future had been between her fingertips, so close.

And now?

Brandon was dead. Lord Rickard too.

It had happened so fast. He just wanted to meet his family and friends, eager to see them again and insisting he could not wait to marry her. He had kissed her hand and smiled. And Cat could have not been happier. And suddenly it started to fall apart.

The warm man she had loved, with the spark of humor in his eyes was dead. Sure, he had barely known him, but she had been excited to change that. She thought she had a lifetime to change that.

Now a number of houses were robbed of their Lords and heirs by the Mad King.

Now Lyanna Stark had been stolen by the prince himself. No one knew of her condition.

Now there was talk of war, of overthrowing the Targaryens.

Now a bunch of boys has become Lords overnight. (In the best-case scenario…)

And Cat felt unjustified in her grieve. People had lost their fathers and sons, burned alive by the man who should have governed them. There was so much misery in her beloved home that her own pain felt unimportant. Cat had lost her betrothed but she would still marry shortly. She would still be the Lady of Winterfell. Just Eddard Stark would be her husband.

Quiet and gentle Ned. Ned who had lost so much, who could lose so much more, potentially.

She had left the great hall of riverrun as Robert Baratheon raged about the injustices the Targaryens had cast his friends, his family, the realm. Cat knew that it was war or Eddard and him dying in an unjust execution. But she had never been more afraid in her life.

One moment life had been beautifully perfect, everything she had ever wanted, the next not only her own happiness was falling apart but the very foundation and safety of their country.

She had no idea how she was supposed to wed Eddard in only two short days when she was still so broken over Brandon. When he was morning half his family and was worried about his sister too? They were what? Supposed to say the words smile and dance as if he would not go to war right the next day. like there would be people at this wedding feast, she would never see again…

Cat rubbed her face. They were puffy and burning, as there were no more tears in her slim body. Still, she was cold, still, she seemed have not cried enough. Maybe it would never be enough…

A soft knock at the door that Cat didn’t even register until her door creaked open. She expected Brynden, but Lysa’s sad eyes peaked thru the gap. When Cat still didn’t respond to anything, Lysa slipped in.

She sat next to her, but except for the spot where their sides connected. Lysa’s warm body was a steady weight against Cat’s waist. A reminder that she was not alone. They sat in silence for a moment or two.

“There is so much to do today. Lysa, why are you here?”, Cat’s voice was hoarse and broken from misuse. Only now did her sister embrace her, almost suffocatingly tight, as if she let go Cat would lose her support. Against all reason, her eyes misted again. “You always take care of everyone else.”, Lysa’s voice was muffled as she pressed her face in Cat’s shoulder. “You put up with my anger and bitterness when I was at my lowest. Let me take care of you too… As long as I can.”

Cat’ thought her heart might explode. She drew a strangled breath and reciprocated her sister’s hug just as hard. She was struggling to put into words how much she loved Lysa. How glad she was they had a relationship again. How relieved that Petyr Baelish was not a part of their life anymore.

“Girls?”, they both perked up. By the looks of it, Lysa also rubbed away tears. In the door, Uncle Brynden stood, with four steaming cups in his hands. Edmure squished next to him holding warm bread with salted butter. “You should eat, Cat. You too, Lysa…”

Cat excepted a cup to see that it was filled with tea. The hot ceramic warmed up her calmy and shaking hands. With a weak smile, she kissed her Uncle on the cheek and her baby brother’s brow. With a thankful look, she squeezed Lysa’s hand. They ate together.


	20. Lysa IX

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> “I hereby proclaim Lord Eddard of House Stark and Lady Catelyn of House Tully to be one flesh, one heart, one soul, now and forever”

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Hello how are you all today?

Lysa tried to smile at her sister thru the looking glass. Cat was beautiful in her wedding gown, worked with snow-white lace. But her face did not show any of the excitement it had emanated weeks ago when the dress had arrived. Now not even the curt smile she shot Lysa managed to reach her eyes.

Lysa tweaked some strands of hair into place before letting go of Cat and stepping away. The jewels around Cat’s neck glimmered most enchanting in the candlelight, they would be more brilliant in the rainbow light of the sept.

“You look beautiful, Cat.”, Lysa tried to smile again, as Cat watched herself in the mirror. “Thank you, my sweet.” She sighed and brushed over the soft fabric, savoring the feeling. “I just wish I could be happier today…” Lysa squeezed her hand another moment. “I will send for Father now. I see you in the sept.” Cat nodded and Lysa turned with sadness in her heart.

After fetching their Father, Lysa assumed her place in the wedding party, between Edmure and Brynden. Her Uncle whore his blackfish sigil proudly on his chest and Lysa didn’t want to be here for the moment her Father would see it. Sure, the dispute was older than herself, but Hoster held onto whatever anger he still had for his brother’s refusal to marry.

Edmure on the other side looked ridiculous proud and excited to wear his extra-fine clothes tonight. It was adorable.

Upfront by the altar stood Ned wearing Stark colors and lucking very uncomfortable. It must be weird to swear to love a stranger in front of Gods you don’t believe in. Having a ceremony of the seven had been an admission that Brandon had made for his bride. Now it was his little brother who had to make good on it. Wasn’t their ceremony way longer than one of the old gods?

Lysa did not know much of Northern customs, but she remembered Cat asking Brandon about it.

Speaking of the door opened and Father led Cat in slowly, the heavy bridal cloak pulling at her shoulders. It was beautifully woven with silver and copper threads outlining the dark blue and maroon respectfully. When her sister was positioned next to Ned the Septon spoke:

“Dear believers, we came together on this wonderful day to celebrate the bond between house Tully and House Stark as their children will be joined in holy matrimony. Lord Eddard Stark and Lady Catelyn Tully stand before the gods today to ask for their blessing and their protection in this new and important section on their path of life.”

The congregation grew quiet and joined the Septon in his prayer. The whole mass was long and strenuous with prayer and song. The bride and groom swore the seven vows to each other, to love and protect each other.

Lysa strained and didn’t come up with a single time Ned had a conversation with Cat before their engagement was agreed on. Now they had to make such expectations heavy promises to each other.

In the crowd, Lysa spied Lord Robert Arryn who stood high for a man his age. Her stomach crunched when she thought about the conversation she had overheard the week after word of the Lords’ deaths in Kings Landing had reached them. Her father had been in his study with the head of house Arryn and she hadn’t meant to eavesdrop, she really had intended to turn away as she saw that Hoster was occupied. But when she heard her name and the context it was used in her heart dropped.

_“I am just offering, my Lord. Lysa is a pretty young maiden with wide hips. A perfect wife for an heir. As Ser Elbert is now no longer with us. You might want to consider taking another wife.”_

_“I appreciate your offer, Hoster, but I am an old man, tired of losing people I love. Lysa is lovely but there is no guarantee that I would lose her or potential children too. Lynett is a good girl and my only surviving charge. I am aware that I put a price on her head by making her my heir but she will surely manage.”_

Of course, Lysa didn’t want to marry Lord Arryn. He was older than her father! But she had understood two things: Lynette Arryn was the only Arryn left next to Lord Arryn and Father tried his best to sell her off as quickly as possible because-

Because of her stupid, naïve choices.

When the last song vibrated against the stained rainbow glass, was the long ceremony almost over. Her Father removed Cat’s maiden cloak and the leaping fish on it with silent melancholy and made space for Ned to pull the white cloak that matched her dress over her shoulder, it was adorned with a silver wolf who’s fur was fashioned after a fishes scales. Again Brandon’s idea.

“With this kiss, I pledge my love and take you for my Lord and Husband.”, Cat’s voice was strong but hollow. From her vantage point, Lysa could see how Ned brushed his palm over her upper arm. “With this kiss, I pledge my love and take you for Lady and Wife.”, he almost whispered. As if it was for Cat’s ears only. The kiss itself was sweet but utterly awkward and it made Lysa think of Petyr and other kisses which was nothing she wanted on Cat’ wedding day.

“I hereby proclaim Lord Eddard of House Stark and Lady Catelyn of House Tully to be one flesh, one heart, one soul, now and forever”

At the feast, Lysa sat next to Edmure a good distance away from the couple, which was regrettable because it was usually Cat who kept her company when Lysa got distracted. All in all, it was a lot like any other feast she had been part of, even more boisterous. Maybe the impending doom of the war ahead of them.

Speeches and toasts were made about how they would all meet like this again when they would be victorious. When they would get rid of Aerys and both he and Rhaegar had to answer for their crimes. This might also be the last time Lysa saw some of those men here.

Trying to get rid of those dark thoughts she filled her cup with sweet wine, but it only tasted bitter on her tongue. The things that happened last time she got herself drunk.

Lysa asked her uncle to dance with her as soon as it was possible. He obliged happily, probably also searching for a way to distract himself tonight. While Brynden spun her over the floor she watched her sister and new good brother.

Ned looked troubled while Cat tried her best to hold a conversation which in turn made him look more guilty. Probably because he didn’t have the mind to enjoy his own wedding. Kissing Bryndon on the cheek before catching a dance with one of her father’s bannerman.

When Lysa was dancing with Edmure she saw Ned and Cat actually get on the dance floor. The way he led her was a bit stiff and both of them seemed to not have their heart in it. (which was understandable all things considered) A few moments later when he was already wandering back to his seat, she intercepted him.

With a smile did Lysa take Ned’s hand and moved to dance with him while Cat was swirled around by their uncle. “How do you feel?”, she asked, doing her best to not let him step on her toes. “Very nervous…”, he chuckled, but it almost sounded panicked.

“Understandable.”, she squeezed his shoulder where she was holding onto him. “You already did half the deed.” Ned shot her a long-suffering look. “Do you really want to talk about something like that-“, he looked at the pairs swaying around them. “with your new good brother?”, he hissed.

“Well, you are being obvious.”, Lysa could not help but grin. She didn’t get what the fuzz was about now that she had lost her maidenhead. (Not that anyone could know…) “What frightens you more, dear good brother? The marriage bed or the war you march for in the morrow?”

Ned huffed at her. “Well, I am better prepared for war-“

“Don’t let Cat hear you.”, Lysa decided to let him off easy then, because now he looked positively panicked. Then his face grew solemn once more. “I just wish Lya could be here or that it was Brandon- Don’t get me wrong. Cat is nice but I don’t know her. I never took the time to get to know her properly and now I married my dead brother’s fiancé while a war is coming and our baby sister could already be dead too? How can I enjoy anything tonight? And I don’t want Catelyn to think it is her fault- because it isn’t- She is probably mourning too… I- I just don’t know what to do…”

The situation was not easy for anyone.

Lysa made sure to not prolong her contact with Ned since too much familiarity bread rumors, but she danced with Edmure and Robert Baratheon before he was too drunk.

But when it was time for the bedding ceremony Lysa made sure that no one would harass her dear good brother too much and she hoped Edmure would do similar for Catelyn.


	21. Jaime VIII

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Good day to you guys.  
> I hope you had a one anyway, because I'm here to ruin it uwu  
> -Aleks

He ran but he was not sure where to. The rebellion had made the city restless and Jaime was not sure where he could run to. Right now he had a quietly sobbing Rhaenys under his arm. The girl had lost Belor in the crowd of fleeing courtiers.

Finally, Jaime made it to the Princess’s chambers which were criminally understaffed as far as guards went. The Kingsguard that was left flocked around Aerys or tried their best to make the city’s defenses more (if that was even possible).

The realm was a mess but not a bigger one than it’s King. Jaime guessed he could only count his blessings that Stark and Baratheon didn’t ransack the city right at this moment. Or- He shocked his head and knocked on Elia’s door.

The Princess was sitting on her bed, seemingly preoccupied with a book in her, while her infant son slept in his crib not far from her, but Jaime could clearly see the steel shining under her skirt.

When she saw that it was him, she visibly relaxed. And took her daughter in her arms as a drowning man might reach for a lifeline.

Jaime glanced at young prince Aegon sleeping in his little bed. The sweet baby prince with his copper skin and silver hair. And of course violet eyes. He was to inherit the throne. If anyone had told them five years ago that Rhaegar would have a son, people would have naturally agreed that the babe would be the heir to the throne.

Now it was not even sure if there would be a throne to inherit or if the kid would survive this war. All because his father wanted to fuck a girl… How tragic.

“Bye, Ser Jaime…”, Rhaenys waved her little hand after him. Jaime smiled tight and ignored the guilt piling up in him.

__

A few days later the news came in Rhaegar was dead. The Trident lost.

The King only digressed from here on out. But the only sane thing he ever did in those past few days was to sent his now heir apparent and pregnant wife to Dragonstone. Which was the only good thing as Elia and the real heir, baby Aegon as well as three-year-old princess Rhaenys would remain in the city were ordered to by their grandfather and King.

Jaime could not even look at them. As he followed the Queen and Prince to the gates, as they would be further escorted to a ship.

Queen Rhaelllia round with child and worn down to the bone. There was almost a spark of relief in her eyes as she left the place of constant torment and her brother-husband behind fore Dragonstone, the palace of her childhood. Jaime could not bring himself to worry for her… He could not allow himself to worry. She was too old for a third child. She would likely not survive. It was fine. There were people in here to worry about, besides he had sworn to protect the King, not his family…

It was fine.

When Jaime stepped back to his spot near the iron throne soon after. Well, soon enough to catch the tail of Aerys conversation with the grand alchemist. “We have the wildfire ready at your pleasure your grace.”

The room was spinning for a heartbeat or two. The stank of burning flash drowned out his nose, the futile screaming of dying men-

Jaime took a deep breath and tried to steady himself. Made wildfire did not necessarily mean burning people. _Yet_. He just prayed that someone would come soon, to do something. Aerys was sitting there, mumbling, muttering, talking to ghosts and hallucinations.

Someone. Anyone.

“Your Grace. Lord Tywin Lannister waits before the gate seeking entry into the city…”

Now Pycelle and Varys had joined them with the messenger. They were the only part of the King’s council readily available to him. Aerys was brushing his fingers over the thrones misshapen steel restlessly.

The spider spoke first: “My King, Tywin has not declared for any side yet and your son's troops are destroyed. I am skeptical of his timing here. If he was to really honor his vows to you as King he would have rallied sooner like the Tyrells…”

Arys fidgeted over cool steel still, but it was Pycelle’s insistence of Tywin’s friendship that did the deed for him, and as the gate opened his father took the city in the name of King Robert. Jaime would have laughed out loud if it wasn’t such a dire situation. King Robert, like Robert Baratheon, really wanted the throne.

But then again with Rhaegar dead who would hold the throne?

With his father closing in on the keep and the king leaving the people seemingly fend for themselves, was there anything other Jaime could have done at that moment?

Aerys was yelling for his alchemists to burn Tywin, burn Robert Baratheon, burn Eddard Stark, burn them all. but Jaime was even sure if they were still in the castle. Either way: He could not just stand there and let him be heard.

_Burn them all._

Jaime didn’t even have time to think about the fact that if it was anyone but Tywin finding him, this could ruin his reputation, ruin his life. But who else could do anything? Would do anything?

Varys definitely knew about the fire. Did he want the city to burn? The city that his father was in? Men he had known his whole life were now baring his father's banner… Would they die well, knowing did his damned duty to the King?

_Burn them all._

In the end, it only took a blink. His fine steel sliding into the King's back with ease. Instead of green fire red blood burst from the wound and his mouth. He was still talking, gurgling his madness into the darkness.

_Burn them all._

_Burn them all._

_Burn them all._

Jaime collapsed into the Iron Throne, watching his King bleed out by his feet with blind eyes. He could not bring himself to feel regret. He had never felt regret for killing a man, but he had thought d braking his vows as a knight as a Kingsguard would be more difficult to him…

_Burn them all._

_Burn them all._

He was trapped somewhere between wanting to throw up and burry himself to never be found and being criminally relived. It was over. Without King, there was no reason to rebel anymore. Sure a blade to the back was a horrible way to go, but it was over now. It was over.

_Burn them all._

Well, he was sworn to protect the man with his sword in his back but he was also sworn to protect the innocence, the people the King wanted to burn. Surely, someone would understand him. What would his father say if he found him like that?

What would happen to him? Would there be a trail? A humorless chuckle escaped his dry lips. He could already see him being executed for regicide when in reality he had saved the city. But alas every war needs his scapegoats. He doubted that Robert Baratheon cared for his character enough to even listen. And why would he if people like Arthur Dayne and Selmy did what they had been told? Unthinking, unquestioning little soldiers.

_Burn them all._

_Burn them all._

But it was not his father, who threw the wide double door open. Jaime looked up and was met with Eddard Stark’s ice grey gaze.

And Elia.

_Burn them all._

The Princess was bleeding and her face red with tears, but she held a bundled up Aegon and a crying Rhaenys against her chest. She was gripping her children as if she was afraid they would be ripped from her any moment. Depending on which of his father’s bannermen had found her first, that might have very well been the case.

To his shame, Jaime had to admit that he hadn’t thought about them since this morning since this horrid day had begun. His blood ran cold. His father had declared the city for Robert. Only the gods knew what he would have done to the Targaryen heir to the throne if his father’s men had found Elia and the babe before Stark.

With closed fists, Jaime forced himself to breathe and put on a grin that hopefully didn’t look as grotesque as it felt. “Good day to you, Stark. Now that you brought the Princess and the little boy Prince I am not entirely sure, who I warm this very uncomfortable seat for You, Robert, or the babe?”

_Burn them all._

_Burn them all._

_Burn them all_.

Eddard Stark on the other hand did not look like he enjoyed seeing Jaime or the not-quiet-cool corpse of his, former he supposed, king.

“Lannister.”, the contempt in his voice boiled Jaime’s blood. What did this backward Northerner know about the situation here? He just came sweeping in with his annoyingly pure sense of justice, thinking he had the privilege to judge him.

“Stark. Have you swallowed your tongue or is my name all you can say?”

“You have murdered the King and cold blood. The King you have sworn to protect with your own life. What is your word worth if you can't even uphold such a simple vow?”

“I have won the rebellion for you, Stark. I think you have misspoken.”

“Keep quiet, both of you.”, Elia snapped at them. She still looked shaken, but there was cold steel in her eyes that Jaime might have seen in her eldest brother. Rhaenys had stopped sobbing and eyed the armed man with caution.

When her mother marched up to the iron throne she covered the small dragon's eyes so she would not see the cold body of her grandfather. Elia shot Jaime an unyielding look and he rose and bowed before her as she sat with her children.

One of the Star men had the mind to cover the body with his cloak.

“Lord Stark, I want to talk to you, Lord Baratheon, and Lord Arryn in due time. I understand that Robert has declared himself king, probably with the assumption that there would be no Targaryens left, but my son, as small as he might be is the rightful heir to the throne.”

She relaxed into the throne, which was an accomplishment in itself because the damned chair was so fucking uncomfortable. Paired with the fact that she also managed to look so regal wearing her nightgown and what appears to be Eddard Stark’s cloak, would have been impressive if Jaime could spare the time to be impressed.

Instead, he dreaded to hear her arrest him.

“Gentleman, please confine, Ser Jaime to the Hand’s tower until we have discussed this matter.” Her dark eyes flickered to the bloodstained cloak to her feet. Jaime loathed the pitiful way she was looking at him. As if he was nothing more than a frightened child too.

Jaime wanted to fight back, but then the doors swung open a second time to reveal his father, who- “What is the meaning of all of this, your highness?”

Elia’s face twitched ever so slightly, but when Lord Tywin saw the body his expression grew solemn. “I understand.”, he just said curtly and did nothing as Jaime was roughly escorted out of the room.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Queen Regent Elia, rise!


	22. Jaime IX

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Elia turned back to him, with cold eyes. This was not the Princess who had smiled at him, this was a woman desperate to keep a country together after the war. “Ser Jaime, how do you plead to the charges?”

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Hey guys! Here a little something before the weekend!

The throne room lay before Jaime once more. But the gloomy aspect it possessed was already lessened with the knowledge that he would not find Aerys on the throne.

Whatever Elia had in store for him that morning it could never be worse than what the Mad King would have done to him, to the city, to the people.

The throne was as tedious looking as ever, now at least he knew it was most uncomfortable. Elia sat on the throne. Alone this time and dressed.

Dressed the part of the Targaryen Queen she now embodied. Jaime was vaguely aware of the changes that had occurred during his confinement. He knew that the rebellion was mostly excused for well Aerys crimes were greater and did call for action. There had been a new small council formed and his brother and his sweet sister were at court.

If he would get to see Cersei one last time before his punishment?

Elia wore a blood-red dress embroidered with long black dragons circling even darker suns. Her filigree crown was wide and fashioned from glittering dornish gold.

He came to a stop before her and bowed as for as his bonds allowed him.

“Ser Jaime of house Lannister has come before us today accused of one of the most heinous crimes known to the gods. He stands accused of killing his own king in cold blood, taking a sword to his back. In doing so he broke a number of his holy vows.”

It was Pycelle out of all people who chirped down his charges and Jaime had to fight not to sneer at the disgusting puddle of a man.

Elia turned back to him, with cold eyes. This was not the Princess who had smiled at him, this was a woman desperate to keep a country together after the war. “Ser Jaime, how do you plead to the charges?”

Jaime bellowed out a humorless laugh: “Guilty. The old man was beside himself, not being fit to rule any longer.”

The room erupted in shouts. “How dare you?” he heard a sharp voice make the loudest fuss. Elia just gestured for them to stop and they quiet down. When he turned he saw young Viserys Targaryen stand on the dais, knuckles white and jaw clenched.

“Ser Jaime. I do understand that it was an act of war, nonetheless, your actions were a crime that needs to see punishment. You are hereby released from the vows of the Kingsguard.” She took a breath. “I wouldn’t want an oathbreaker to guard my son. You are returned in your father’s care and reinstalled as his heir.”

More yelling, she glared. “It will be noted here that this is more as a favor to Lord Lannister, who secured Kingslanding during the rebellion.”

Jaime looked at her. They both knew that it wasn’t for Eddard Stark that his father’s men would have murdered her and the children. There would have been no space for Targaryen children if Robert had assumed the throne.

A new dynasty would have been easier than an infant king, they all knew, so Elia had to make amends even to Tywin Lannister, to keep the peace.

“You will join your family on a journey back to Casterly Rock soon as your betrothal to Lysa Tully is hereby reinstated. You will marry her in due time.”

Jaime wanted to say something. His mouth hung open almost comically. Lysa Tully? After all this fuss it came down to him marrying Lysa Tully?


	23. Lysa X

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> What would Jaime do when he found out she was not a maid anymore?
> 
> What would Lord Tywin do?
> 
> She had a mind to throw the chest that contained her wedding dress and the maiden cloak with the silver yarn in the rivers nearby. To see the rich fabric be ruined in the mud and then she could crawl under the covers of her girlhood bed and never come out again.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I guess I have to apologize once more?   
> It was a bit busy last week between personal stuff and uni and well, the lockdown getting longer and longer....
> 
> How do you guys cope with the fact that the pandamic just keeps being unresolved?
> 
> In better news I can pick up my cat in six days, which is a thing to look foreward to...

Lysa had the mind to dissolve into tears every time she heard her beautiful nephew coo. Too fresh were the wounds of her own loss, that even a happy healthy child only filled her with remorse.

Robb named after Robert Baratheon and crowned with a head of fine Tully auburn hair, had nothing of his father or the North he would rule over when he came of age. Nothing about Robb Stark was northern safe for his father’s name.

But Lysa loved him even thru the pain.

After the initial fear for her sister’s life had been receded and Lysa could breathe again, the babe was a joy to be around. And for the first time in forever her family had felt like a real family again.

So much the worse that she had to leave now. Cat would leave too, but she would go north to meet with Ned and Lyanna and Stannis and of course, she would bring the little worm to his ancestral home.

It stung that Cat would be present for another wedding and not Lysa’s. There were all kinds of rumors, of course, that new Queen Elia would be executed soon, that Jaime Lannister had deserved to die rather than go and wed a pretty girl like her and most popular that he would refuse her at the altar. For all Lysa knew he might.

So, when Cat embarrassed her at the gates of Riverrun, Lysa held onto it as her life depended on it. She didn’t want to leave, the thought made her sick. She would be alone with the Lannister twins, their imp brother, and Lord Lannister…

What would Jaime do when he found out she was not a maid anymore?

What would Lord Tywin do?

She had a mind to throw the chest that contained her wedding dress and the maiden cloak with the silver yarn in the rivers nearby. To see the rich fabric be ruined in the mud and then she could crawl under the covers of her girlhood bed and never come out again.

Sighing she rubbed her brow. Cat sent her a sad smile. “I love you Lysa.” When Edmure embraced her next she might have cried all over again. He had grown so much, but he was still just a boy. Her little baby brother would be alone now. The last Tully sibling to live at home.

It was all so terrible.

But it was time to say goodbye for now anyway.

She waved to them as her carriage carried her down the Kingsroad, when she turned the tears start falling. Lysa was not ready to be so far from home, not now that everything seemed to be getting better. Why couldn’t Jaime stay a stupid Kingsguard? Her father would surely found another, a better husband for her, and she could have been happy.

Now all her hopes for happiness were shattered, as surely marring Jaime Lannister would never make her happy.

She prayed to the seven faces of God that he would give her children at least…

___

Casterly Rock was an impressive castle, architectural very different from Riverrun and Lysa took solace in the smell of salt in the air. The sea was not her rivers but it was close to water anyway. She almost chuckled. She was a fish after all.

When she entered there wasn’t much of a greeting as the wedding was to take place this evening. It was abundantly clear to her that Lord Tywin was angry when he greeted his future good-daughter. He was all tight smiles and courtesy but there was a fire sheering beneath it all and as Lysa stepped into the entrance hall.

Young Tiryon Lannister had come to greet her, as had most of the household and even a few western Lords who had already arrived for the festivities tomorrow. But Jaime was nowhere to be found.

The whole atmosphere was tense and Lysa wasn’t even sure if she had the energy to smile thru all of it. She was too tense, yearning for a soft bed.

It was when the door opened another time that there was something like a pause to breathe for her, but only because everyone's eyes were on Cersei Lannister instead. The girl, the woman was just as old as Lysa but she held herself with so much grace and poise she could have been in her twenties and a Queen all the same.

She made her riding dress seem like a ball gown. Cersei came closer to Lysa and lowered her chin in the slightest acknowledgment of greeting, her smile was easy, condescending and most of all, beautiful. “It is pleasant to finally make your acquaintance, little Tully fish.” Laughter behind her that was stifled quickly. “ I am afraid Jaime didn’t tell me much about his time at Riverrun.”

“Cersei.”, Lord Tywin’s voice was a command by nature. “Please help Lady Lysa to her rooms that she might eat and freshen up. My Lady, I am afraid we already took our supper waiting for your party.” Lysa just nodded and followed Cersei quietly.

Why did she feel like the insecure girl again? Cersei being a worse version of her perfect sister Cat?

The trek to her rooms was too long and not nearly long enough all at once. Cersei had let her courtesy go the moment they had left behind people of importance and ignored Lysa, save for a vaguely disgusted glare.

The food was still warm and Lysa could keep her eyes open long enough to use a moist towel to her filthy body before falling into bed in the underclothes she wore. The next day would be too stressful to dwell on.

Still, after everything, she could not sleep. Not in this place so foreign to her, so dark and different than home. It was a soft bed, but it wasn’t her bed. It was all wrong.

She took her cloak and ghosted amongst the stone castle, just to do something with the nervous energy torturing her tired bones.

The thing was, Lysa didn’t even know where she was going. Just wandering in the nearly deserted corridors of the massive castle.

Then she heard voices and stood still. She had passed a few guard men but no one had stopped her yet. They didn’t even bestow as much as a word to her but the hissing of a tirade she witnessed now was thunderous in the silence of the night.

“I don’t want to marry him! If the engagement is broken, all the better for me.”

“Well, sweet sister, who else do you plan to marry?”

An audible scoff as Lysa peeked thru a row of columns, to see Cersei sneer down at Tyrion. The smaller Lannister rolling his mismatching eyes violently.

“Not Robert Baratheon. He might look good, but he is a drunk and he is still talking about that Stark girl whenever he is out of it and she is his brother’s wife. Not to talk about what Rhaegar probably done to her. There is no way that bastard is Stannis.”

“Well, his or not Stannis took him in and the Queen legalized him. I don’t think that any of it matters. What matters is that you might not even get a good match at all anymore because said Queen doesn’t want us to make any alliance at all.”

“I-” Cersei stopped for a moment, anger still apparent on her features. “What? I can't even see you being content in a smaller keep. And if you wanted to say that you wanted to be Queen, I am pretty sure you are too old to wed the toddler-king.”

“Oh because Elia Martell gets to have all that power-“, she stopped as if she didn’t want to say the last part, not out loud anyway. “It’s not that you care what happens to me anyway-“

“believe me or not I do care. Not that you deserve it with the way you treat me, but you can’t stay here and be Lady of the Keep anymore because that will be Lady Lysa’s position after tomorrow-“

Cersei huffed and turned. “I don’t care what you think. Jaime deserves better than that halfwit. What is a fish to a lion? Not more than an afternoon snack.”

Footfall and then Lysa was alone in the night once more.

___

Around dawn, Lysa was temporarily wakened by the sound of incoming guests, guests to her wedding. Her wedding to dammed Jaime Lannister. It wasn’t until a few hours later that a handmaid woke her for a hot bath and breakfast.

The wash was godsent after the long and strenuous trek up west. Lysa thought about what she had heard yesterday night while a collection of Lannister maids and her own detangled her hair and scrubbed her skin clean.

It occurred to her than that for all intense and purposes Cersei Lannister had been the Lady of Casterly Rock. Whether or not she actually did the work was meaningless, in the perception of the people their Lord's daughter would be carried away into an uncertain future while a stranger married the heir and would take her place.

It did not in fact help that the Last Lady Lannister had been a Lannister by birth too. It made Lysa’s political situation more difficult. A task she had no emotional energy for.

If she could, she would hide away in her apartments in the keep, maybe let her husband put a babe on her. She remembered Robb and her lip quivered…

Abruptly she shot up, shaken by her own grieve.

The cold air of the room hit her even with the flame burning in the fireplace. When she was asked if she was fine, she just smiled and tried to ease the tension around her, like Cat would have done. Like Cat would have done.

Going thru the steps of getting dressed was almost soothing. It was something to latch on to, something she could do. Her dress was tighter than she would have liked little embroidery running down the skirt akin to the silvery-white scales of a fish. There were pearls sewn into the bodice and pearls in her red hair.

When she finally felt somehow functional again, all of it was shattered once more…

Cersei had entered her rooms without so much as a knock. Again she acted like the keep was hers and not her father's. Lysa watched her thru watery blue eyes. “I come to see after you, little trout.”, a smile barely trying to be real. “That is very kind of you.”

“Of course it is kind of me.”, the other girl snatched the pearl collar out of her maid's hands and make a show of fastening it around Lysa’s pale neck herself. “You will find that I can be incredibly kind, little trout.”

Lysa watched her thru her mirror and wondered how the green eyes that burned into her yesterday were so cold and distant today.

“I can even be your friend if you find it in yourself to accept my generosity…”

Lysa wanted to whip around and confront her for her cryptic words and blatant antagonism when Lysa herself had done nothing to deserve this, but Cersei just shrugged nonchalantly and turned, leaving the bride to be to her anger…

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Cersei being herself anyone?   
> She is such a good vilian I wish the fandom was a bit less sexist at times,,,,


	24. Jaime X

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Lysa Tully…
> 
> Jaime had not thought the day would come after all. 

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Hey guys,  
> I hope everyone is well and privy to a bit of sunshine.  
> I'll make sure to clean up my posting Schedule  
> Sorry for the inconviniance

Jaime sneered at the gilded suit his father wanted him to wear. It was too cheery for the dread he felt for the occasion.

Sure, in many ways it was exactly the kind of extravagance he expected his father to favor for him, but if he was honest he missed the security of his white cloak. The certain future it would have given him, a future with Cersei and Cersei alone…

No, that was not entirely true either… He- A part of him was glad to be far, far away from the halls the mad king had reigned his terror in. Away from prying eyes. At least in his father’s keep, no one dared to call him a Kingslayer to his face.

Lysa Tully…

Jaime had not thought the day would come after all. 

He had made it back to the rock shortly after nightfall and his father did scold him like a child. He had expected as much when he had shown his face again, but to his relief, Tywin had only been angry about the way Jaime’s behavior had humiliated him in the public eyes. The Old Lion didn’t give a damn about the relationship his children had with their future spouses as long as they fulfilled their roles – in Jaime’s case: Provide an heir and continue Tywin’s legacy.

In that Lysa Tully was only a means to an end. A warm body to carry the Lannister heir. She didn’t have to be a consequential part of his life.

The thing that worried him more was the next topic his father moved quickly to. (It had hurt more. The quick dismissal of his person to things that were obviously considered more important than that.)

One of these dreaded topics was his sister’s betrothal and her marriage prospects in general.

Again, it was all about Robert Baratheon, for the opportunity for their father to maybe strike up an alliance with the stormlands, as Lord Robert evidently doesn’t want his she-wolf anymore as she was damaged goods no after the Targaryen Prince had her. And the controversy around her bastard boy. Stannis had claimed him, but there were rumors. No one knew for sure anyway.

Jaime had no idea what his father intended to do with Princess- Queen Regent Elia when most of the realm had excepted her for now. When it was whispered that Robert had done so gladly as he never wanted to be King, he just wanted justice…

It was nothing Jaime even wanted to think about. A marriage for Cersei meant she would be taken from him, permanently. He could not have that. Not now that they had found each other again…

There were other candidates for Cersei’s hand. Men he could cut down without breaking a sweat. Anyway, Jaime didn’t see his father letting her marry a man from a lesser house or a bannerman. He had only one daughter after all and a daughter was always an opportunity to make politics.

Jaime had heard his father’s council mentioning both Oberyn Martell, which was utter bullshit as the Martells would not object as one of them on the throne after all. Not to mention Tywin’s distaste for the Rhoynish. If a dornish or Martell wedding had been an option he would have accepted Jaime’s betrothal to Elia Martell all those years ago.

Another man suggested was Willas Tyrell… The reachmen were Targaryen Loyalists but they had their own quarrel with the Martells… Having Elia being the mother of the heir was one thing, her reigning for the next fifteen years was an entirely different thing.

That being said, Willas Tyrell was not a Lord, Robert Baratheon was.

Maybe father would take the gamble and hope the man would fall in Love with Cersei, so she could convince him to go to war after all.

As Jaime expected the discussion warranted no solution, none that would produce an outcome Father or Cersei would be happy with. (Not that Cersei‘s happiness was a factor in the discussion)

Cersei wanted to be Queen for the influence, to see the Martell girl to not only marry the Prince Cersei had wanted, (Not that Jaime could ever be said about it. Cersei’s obsession with that prick had always boiled his blood. Something he felt more than justified with since he had seen him treat his actual wife.) but now Elia was the one reigning, uncontested as Robert was the only supportable candidate…

The Velaryons of course had a better claim on Targaryen blood but they were not influential enough as their favor with the Royals had been slowly residing anyway. Who would let a small house claim the throne when the current regent was a Martell?

That being said other houses married with Targaryen were the Martells themselves who couldn’t be used for obvious reason and the Arryns who had no good standing as they were almost extinct. As Lord Jon’s only relative and heir was his daughter…

The meeting ended with barking and a furious Cersei who wanted to be alone…

Not that Jaime cared when all she had talked about earlier that day was her distaste for Robert and how father should have killed Elia and- How could he forget? How stupid Lysa Tully must be.

He watched himself in his mirror and smirked. He was a blinding presence of gold and green. Golden clothes, with golden hair and jewelry fit for a king embedded with the emeralds his sister loved to see on him. If anything he would go into this farce of marriage as a Lannister should-

He was a lion after all. What was a little fish girl to him?

The sept was lit up in all the colors of the rainbow. It gave Jaime a damned headache. Their clown of a Septon tried and failed to look deserving of respect.

Jaime didn’t pay him much attention as his eyes were only on Cersei. She was blindingly beautiful tonight. Her dress matched his as they had so many other times. A vision in green and gold. If it wasn’t for the fact that one wore a dress and the other a suit, they could be interchangeable. They were so similar, so perfect for each other.

His father nodded curtly but did not direct any attention to him otherwise.

For what it was worth the older man used his time to glare unsatisfied at Tyrion and his boisterous chitchat. His brother wore red and gold too but it did nothing to disguise his looks. It was good to know him here all the same.

If Cersei had to leave soon maybe at least Tyrion would stay a bit longer with him so he would not lose his mind completely between having to bed the Tully girl and being subject to their father’s expectations again, all without his Cersei.

Tywin Lannister stepped out to escort his good daughter to be to the alter. After the war, there had been losses on the Tully side and no other member of her family had made it to this event. It would have been stranger if the whole thing wasn’t so rushed in the first place. The new Queen’s orders.

(Still, didn’t it say enough about Lysa when not even her father was taken the time to go to her own wedding?)

Lysa looked mostly stubborn when she was escorted up to him. She looked beautiful, he had to admit. To her shame, she could not outshine Cersei not even in her fine wedding gown. A thick cloak was dragging her stature down and she seemed even meeker than before.

Jaime blended out most of the ceremony. It was long. It was boring. And most importantly it didn’t mean anything to him. He moved his mouth when he was supposed to sing and mumbled the words and vows halfheartedly. It was over soon anyway.

His father removed the ugly fish from the girl’s shoulder with a swift motion and Jaime fastened the golden lion around her shoulders as distant as possible.

“With this kiss, I pledge my love and take you for my lord and husband.”

Lysa Tully was watching him expectantly, her ice-blue eyes searching his face. Was she hesitant about the kiss or did he imagine that?

“With this kiss, I pledge my love and take you for my lady and wife.”

The words left his lips almost sarcastically, because how could he pledge something that could never be because his love was already someone else’s entirely. Still, he leaned in and kissed her soft lips.

“one flesh, one heart, one soul, now and forever.”

It was done. Lysa was his wife for better or worse.

__

The feast was lavish and it seemed like most of the Westerlands was present. The music was good, the food better and the atmosphere was great as everyone else seemed to be in high spirits. It was the first real excuse for a feast after the not-really failed rebellion and the tension the last years of Aerys reign had left them with.

To his annoyance, Lysa was nothing but courteous and charming with his father’s vassals. They all flocked around the new Lady Lannister as if she had any kind of power as if Tywin was not sitting right here and buttering up to Jaime’s wife would score them any favors.

The groom himself swirled sweet wine in an adorned goblet, with a bitter expression on his face. He could not stand the laughter. He could not stand the songs and he definitely could not stand the slimy man who had currently his hands around his Cersei’s waist.

Jaime knew the youth, an Addam of almost insignificant birth as far as nobility went. He had pretty eyes and as far as her grin went was entertaining enough. That didn’t stop Jaime from burning with jealousy. He did not care if Lysa hadn’t talked to him since the ceremony. She could stay away longer for all he cared. But Cersei being joyous in another man’s arm while he was miserable? Unforgivable.

He stood faster than his head could catch up with and it was his little brother who took his arm and sired him down from the dais. “What are you doing?”, he hissed thru a pleasant enough smile.

“Talking to Cersei.”, Jaime was more aggregated as he liked to admit. He didn’t know yet if talking meant yelling or kissing her silly. It depended on her attitude anyway. “You want to go dance when you haven’t danced with your wife yet?”

“I don’t give a damn about Lysa Tully.”, he shook free. Tyrion rolled his eyes dramatically and Jaime never was so tempted to punch him before. “Well, you just vanishing at your own wedding is also not a good look.” He shrugged the handoff and strode up to his sister and pulled her away from the other man. His smile was forced. “Can you excuse me for a moment? I feel rather nervous and I need a moment to make sure my sister had actually checked in on my lovely wife beforehand.”

Without waiting for an answer he made it out the hall as stealthy as they managed to be. Cersei pulled herself free with a scoff. “What are you doing?”, she did not ask more as he was already kissing her. Hard and bruising.

She melted into it despite her irritation and he savored every second of her soft flesh pressed against him. How could he miss someone already when they were still right there? She broke free with a gasp- “We should get back..” And he already felt the loss. “They will miss you surely”

Seeing his disappointed face, she put a hand to his jaw, stroking it consoling him. “I know that you do not care for her. I know that you will only think of me when you fuck her.” Her fingers ghosted over his skin. “Come to me when you are done with that whore. I will be wet and waiting…”


End file.
